#jessica's favorites have changed a bit from the first time i made a favorites list!!! i learn new things about her every day uwu | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuttling · 3 years

Text

Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #paper rings #inspired by #taylor swift

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pan-de-queer · 3 years

Text

part of the plan (junksen)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Very light angst (methinks)

Summary:

“Over the last two months, she’s gone to see a professional craftsmaker, chocolatier, and jeweler to help make Emily’s advent calendar of her dreams. One of the earliest things Aubrey learned about the younger woman (way before they even started dating) was that she loved Christmas and everything it entails. The songs, the lights, the never-ending joy, and most of all, Emily loved the sweets. Aubrey had been given a Christmas advent from one of her clients just before their first Christmas together and Emily had nearly eaten all of the wrapped caramel before Aubrey had even finished making them dinner that night. It was as endearing as it was exasperating to keep her girlfriend’s sweet tooth at bay, but this year, Aubrey had a fool proof plan to keep Emily from eating her special advent calendar.”

Or: It’s a pitchmas season fic, and a gift fic, and a proposal fic all rolled into one.

Author’s Note: A bit of a rush getting this one done but hAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF MY VERY FIRST FRIENDS IN THIS FANDOM!!! @snowonebutyou i love you so much and i hope you have the best of days! 💕 completely unrelated but i also realized that this is my 20th pitch perfect fic???? time sure does fly when you’re trying to fix universal’s mistakes 😂 Back to related words, fic is inspired by this gifset!

ao3

part of the plan

Aubrey’s always been a planner.

Ever since she was a little girl, she’s made lists and schedules and plans to help organize her ever-changing life.

Planning calms her—centers her in the midst of the storms she’s had to face to get to where she is today. Planning is easy for her—simple and methodical. Planning is also fun for her, especially when she’s planning for something she loves—like, say, proposing to her girlfriend of five years on Christmas day.

Aubrey’s been thinking of this proposal since Emily had asked her if she could make them matching calendars for their first New Year’s together. She’s been properly planning for it for more than four months now.

Realistically, it shouldn’t have taken Aubrey more than four months to get everything she needed for her proposal, but nobody needed to know of the month and a half she spent panicking over what she should do and when she should propose. Some mental break(down)s were all part of the planning process, after all.

Thankfully, Chloe, Jessica, Ashley, and Stacie had helped get her back on track and now here she is, only seven days away from proposing to her most favorite person on the planet.

Meeting Emily had been like seeing the sun. The newest Bella had been bright, almost blinding in her optimism and hope of seeing the Bellas return to the “legendary” status she’d been told of growing up, but she’d also been so passionate—so excited to try any activity Aubrey would throw at them and so sure that the Bellas could go back to being the family her mom had told her of.

Emily was warmth and hope in a time when Aubrey had been surrounded by the monotony of strained team building exercises and angry, whiny clients.

When Aubrey had to return to the Lodge after Worlds, she and Emily struck up a friendship that the blonde is forever thankful for having. She can’t really say when she fell in love with Emily, but she remembers the moment she stopped holding back her feelings from the younger woman.

“A doula?” Emily’s lips were curled into a soft smile despite the furrow between her brows, mug of hot chocolate cradled gently in her hands as she shuffled closer to her.

“I think I’d be pretty good at it,” Aubrey shrugged, smile half-joking and half-nerves.

“Of course you would,” Emily was quick to reassure. “You’re great at whatever you put your mind to. But a doula… in Greece?”

“Too ambitious?” Her fingers twisted in knots as she waited for the younger woman’s reply. Over the past few years, Emily’s opinion had started to mean the world to her and she knew that in this moment, Emily’s word could mean everything.

“No. I was just thinking—” Emily hummed, a thoughtful frown curling her lips as she seemed to weigh her words carefully “—too far.”

Aubrey could feel her heart climbing her throat, her twisted fingers squeezing together as she asked with bated breath, “Too far for what?”

Silence seemed to be Emily’s only reply, the air thick and expectant as Aubrey waited and waited and waited.

“Too far from us.” Emily finally replied. “From your family.” Warm browns dropped to the floor as she mumbled, “From me.”

Aubrey felt her heart stop at the admission, blood rushing to her ears as she felt all the questions she’d never asked get answered.

Emily smiled wryly as she finally met her frozen gaze, “I’d miss Saturday movie night.”

“We can still do that,” Aubrey answered on autopilot, her thoughts still stuck on from me. “Online and all.”

“That’s not the same,” Emily frowned, grip tightening around her mug. “You know that.”

And she does.

Aubrey does know that this decision—this supposedly simple career change—is not as simple as she’d made it sound. This decision meant finding and maybe even training a replacement for her at the lodge. It meant training for something completely new. It meant most probably leaving Atlanta—leaving the routine and familiarity of her old life behind. It meant leaving her family and friends and Emily.

Could she really leave Emily?

Softly, Aubrey agreed, “I know.”

She watched as lean fingers squeezed the ceramic mug over and over and over again. She watched as emotions flitted through Emily’s lips, brows, eyes before suddenly—confidently—the younger woman straightened in her seat.

Brown eyes burned with determination as desperation seeped into Emily’s plea of “Don’t go.”

Aubrey felt her heart breaking.

“Emily—”

The younger woman ploughed through her protests as she set her mug on the floor and cupped Aubrey’s cold fingers with her warmth. “Don’t go to Greece. You can be a doula anywhere. Please, Aubrey. Stay.”

Emily’s hands held hers in a gentle, sure grip, brown eyes begging her to just say yes, but what did Aubrey have here? A father who doesn’t care for her? The job she hates? The woman she loves only seeing her as a best friend—maybe even only as a mentor? “Stay for what?”

“Stay for—” Emily sputtered, frustration bleeding into the scowl on her lips. “For the Bellas! For Beca’s new solo career. For Chloe’s graduation from vet school. For baby Bella’s first birthday. For—” Emily pulled away as her voice started to choke, the warm hands holding hers starting to shake as a lump started to form in Aubrey’s own throat.

Teary brown eyes met hers as Emily whispered, “Stay for me.” A sob erupted in the space between them but Aubrey is too busy living out her daydreams to determine if it came from her or the woman in front of her.

“Stay so we can—So I can ask you if you’d like to go to the old orchard with me and we can pick some fruit that I’ll tell you to taste and then hold hands and you can laugh at my dumb jokes and we can talk about anything and everything and then we can get actual food at that ramen place you love before going for dessert at the ice cream parlor we go to whenever I’m craving and then at the end of it all I can ask if you enjoyed it and then ask if I can kiss you. Maybe. If you want.”

And oh does Aubrey want.

She’s wanted this for so long that it all feels like a dream.

“Aubrey?” She hadn’t noticed she’d been crying until she’d felt Emily’s calloused fingers brush at her cheeks.

With a bubbling laugh, Aubrey smiled as she stared at the miracle woman sitting in front of her, “You haven’t really asked me anything yet.”

Aubrey could feel the relief leave the younger woman as Emily took in her smile and steady grip.

“Aubrey Posen,” Emily laughed, her own tears starting to well up as Aubrey leaned in. “Will you go stay here with me, in Barden or wherever the world takes us, and go on a date with me?”

The warmth of the woman in front of her and the promise of a future together filled her with so much hope and so much love.

“I’d love nothing more,” she whispered before finally melting into Emily and tasting her last first kiss.

And so she’s here—they’re here—five years later.

Emily had been the first to step up and ask her out and Aubrey feels that it’s only fitting for her to push for the next chapter of their relationship.

So she has everything planned out.

Over the last two months, she’s gone to see a professional craftsmaker, chocolatier, and jeweler to help make Emily’s advent calendar of her dreams.

One of the earliest things Aubrey learned about the younger woman (way before they even started dating) was that she loved Christmas and everything it entails. The songs, the lights, the never-ending joy, and most of all, Emily loved the sweets. Aubrey had been given a Christmas advent from one of her clients just before their first Christmas together and Emily had nearly eaten all of the wrapped caramel before Aubrey had even finished making them dinner that night.

It was as endearing as it was exasperating to keep her girlfriend’s sweet tooth at bay, but this year, Aubrey had a fool proof plan to keep Emily from eating her special advent calendar.

With the help of the craftsman, Aubrey had a special advent box made where every little compartment needed a main key to open. She kept the key strung along the necklace Emily had given her the year before and had even made her girlfriend promise not to open a new day without her.

Thankfully, the puppy-pout she’d given at the start of the month and the specialized calendar seemed to be doing the trick.

Only seven days away from Christmas and Emily had waited patiently (or as patiently as a vibrating ball of sunshine could wait) each evening for Aubrey to return home and open a new compartment to reveal each specially designed chocolate for the day.

And as adorable as Emily’s reaction to each new piece of chocolate was, Aubrey was more than a little nervous about her girlfriend’s response to her proposal.

(Not that she thought Emily would say no or anything. She just needed everything to be perfect.)

At the very end of the advent calendar, in the compartment for Christmas day, Aubrey had replaced the expected chocolate piece with a ring. The ring.

And sure, it’s kind of cheesy to propose on Christmas day, but that day means a lot to Emily and to them as a couple, so why not propose on such a special day?

Well, Aubrey learns the answer to her question as soon as she gets home.

“Baby, I’m home!” Aubrey calls out into their modest-sized bungalow, sliding her work shoes off before placing them on the shoe rack and tossing her coat on to the dog-designed coat stand Emily had excitedly brought home a month after they’d moved in together.

Aubrey pads her way through the house, confused at the lack of reply or thunder of floorboards she’s gotten used to hearing every time she comes home later than her girlfriend.

Cautiously, she pads through the living room and checks the kitchen, noting the lack of food on the island, before making her way to the master bedroom, confusion growing to worry.

“Em?” Aubrey pushes the door to their room open. “Babe?”

The bedroom itself is dark, the clearly unmade bed only visible through the sliver of light peeking out of their adjoining bathroom. A stuttering breath escapes her lips as the blonde tries her best to remember if Emily had texted or called her about any issue when she’d arrived home earlier today. Fingers shaking as she feels her heart climbing up her throat, Aubrey feels her feet rush to the bathroom before she even realizes what’s happening.

“Emily!” she yells as the door easily gives way under her half-tackle, wood slamming into the bathroom tiles as blue eyes flutter wildly around the room.

Aubrey expects to see Emily huddled by the toilet bowl, probably puking out another unfortunate case of food poisoning. Or, if Aubrey let her worst fears take over, then she’d expect to see Fergus or one of his men holding Emily hostage in their shower stall, gun to her head just like in her nightmares.

Instead, what greets her is a guilty looking Emily, eyes red and watery with tears barely held back, and smudges of dirt decorating her lips.

“Oh baby.” Relief fills her lungs despite the concern that pinches her brows, Aubrey falls to the floor next to her girlfriend, cold hands fluttering over Emily’s stiff form. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Emily seems to break out of her stupor at the admission, warm hands catching Aubrey’s as she tries to smile reassuringly. “I’m okay, I’m alright. I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”

“It’s—” Aubrey shakes her head, knowing that Emily can see right through her if she says something as clichéd as fine. “You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

Emily’s lower lip shakes as her tears finally fall. “I’m okay. But I—” Emily sniffs leaning into Aubrey’s touch. “I’m so sorry, Aubrey. I ate the chocolates.”

The admission doesn’t register in her mind until Aubrey’s thumb brushes the dirt by her girlfriend’s lips. The brown smudge coming away sticky and smooth as Aubrey finally leans back to take a proper look at her girlfriend.

Traces of chocolate cover Emily’s lips and fingers, her nose and eyes red from crying, tear tracks spilling down her cheeks.

Aubrey doesn’t know if she should laugh, panic, or kiss her.

Here she was worrying about whether Emily had gotten sick or hurt when in reality, her girlfriend had holed herself up in their bathroom out of guilt, crying about eating the advent chocolates she’d made specially for her—or hell, maybe even crying about “ruining” her proposal.

Aubrey feels her heart grow three sizes for this woman.

“Emily, it’s okay,” she bites back her smile as she continues to wipe Emily’s tears away. “I mean, I’d hoped to surprise you on Christmas day, but I suppose you surprising me is just as nice.”

“S-Surprise?” Emily pulls away, confusion pinching her brows as she wipes the last of her tears away.

Aubrey pauses at the question, blue eyes trying to find recognition in her girlfriend’s face. When she finds none, she asks slowly, “The surprise in the last compartment of the calendar?”

“That’s…” Emily ducks her head. “That’s the only one I didn’t open. I just—I had the worst day so when I came home and saw you’d left the key I thought I’d just eat the chocolate for today to feel a bit better and then maybe leave some for you, but then today’s chocolate became tomorrow’s and suddenly I’ve eaten the chocolate for six whole days and I felt so bad about eating all the others and then you texted that you were coming home and I panicked and tried to hide the calendar in here but I felt so bad about it that I couldn’t really think and I just ended up crying.”

“Oh baby,” Aubrey pulls her into a hug, absolutely endeared by her girlfriend’s little ramble and sympathetic of Emily’s little breakdown, smoothing down her hair as she murmurs soothing sounds into her temple. “It’s okay, really. I know I made a big deal of it, but I just wanted your surprise to be special.”

They stay huddled in their hug for a while, comfortable despite the awkward position they were curled in. It’s reassuring, Aubrey thinks, that even if her plans have all gone to bits, she’s still assured of the warmth and consistency of having Emily in her life.

Eventually, Emily reluctantly pulls away, the red in her eyes finally fading as a small smile flits her lips.

“So…” Emily starts, voice slightly raspy as the smile on her lip grows wide. “What was the surprise?”

The question makes her laugh, her earlier nerves of proposing gone at the sheer relief and warmth of being here, safe, with her girlfriend.

“Well, I’m going to need the key you stole so you can see it,” she teases, Emily gasping exaggeratedly in reply.

“I didn’t steal it! You forgot it this morning when you woke up late for work,” Emily pouts as she pulls the necklace out of her pocket.

Aubrey simply hums in reply, smile wide as she takes the key from the necklace before looking around the room. “Whatever you say, baby. Now, where’s the calendar you supposedly tried to hide?”

Emily huffs at the joke, a smile betraying her faux-annoyance as she pulls the wooden calendar out from behind the toilet she’s sitting on.

Aubrey stifles at a laugh as she notes the way every single box had been opened except for the last, the first eighteen days properly closed from when they’d opened them together with the next six days opened haphazardly.

The compartment marked “25” is still locked shut, and with steady hands, Aubrey places the wooden calendar over her girlfriend’s legs and offers her the key.

“Why don’t you open it, Em?” she smiles, heart singing with excitement. “The surprise is for you, after all.”

Emily’s curiosity wins over her confusion as she takes the key and excitedly opens the compartment.

Her reaction is everything Aubrey had been dreaming of.

“Emily Junk, I love you.” Emily laughs in reply, grin wide as brown eyes watch her take the ring out of the box it’s been sitting in for weeks. Aubrey had written out an entire speech for this proposal, had planned out the exact spot to propose to her in and the exact dress she was going to wear. Had planned the song that would play in the background and the tone she used when she proposed. But, well, the only plan that really matters at this point is that she gets to spend the rest of her life with the woman she loves. “I’m in love with you. Marry me?”

With tears in Emily’s eyes, she lets her laughter skate over Aubrey’s lips, brown eyes glowing as Emily whispers the words Aubrey had said more than half a decade ago. “I’d love nothing more.”

Aubrey knows she couldn’t have planned any better.

#pitch perfect #junksen #emily junk #aubrey posen #for my bully babe #my writing #junksen fic #original work #original writing #christmas fic #proposal fic #christmas au #advent calendar au #queer bread writes

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years

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5e Irelia, the Blade Dancer build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Jessica “OwleyCat” Oyhenart. Made for Riot Games.)

FINE I’LL MAKE IRELIA GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!

Irelia is my least favorite champion in League. She’s not my most banned (Shaco) nor is she the champion I complain the most about, but she is absolutely the champion that I look at and constantly think “this character actively ruins the game for me.” I’ll admit that Irelia’s role in the Sentinels of Light story was pretty interesting but you’re still not going to make me like Irelia, Riot!

I’m not going to bore everyone with a long-winded rant about my hatred for this character and how what I thought was going to be a nerf actually made her S tier (joy to the fucking world I now actually have to ban her) but I will say this: there are no champions who I won’t make a genuine build for if I take the time to make a proper blog post about them... Except Talon, but that’s because Talon has one of the most boring kits in the entirety of League of Legends.

GOALS

Step. Two. Whirl. Lift! - What? Do you think that a champion with literally unlimited dashes is unfair?

Perfection of form - We’ll also need to weave our blades around us like a dress, slicing at foes and protecting yourself in one fluent motion.

Remember the Placidium! - When in doubt just use more blades.

RACE

Irelia’s a human... but making humans all the time is boring. Irelia has an innate magic and I’d consider being in-tune with Ionia’s spirit a connection to the Fey. So I decided to make her an elf for the sake of this build, more particularly an Aereni High Elf from Eberron for the innate Expertise.

A regular High Elf works too if your DM doesn’t allow Eberron races; the only thing that really changes with the Aereni High Elf is that you get Expertise in a skill. Valenar elves are also cool for the Double Scimitar.

You can also make Irelia a human but there aren’t many feats I want for her except maybe Mobile, but I felt like being an elf was more fun to grab other feats.

As an elf you have +2 to your Dexterity score, Keen Senses for proficiency in the Perception skill (gotta watch those wards!), and the Fey Ancestry of Ionia grants you advantage against charms and immunity to being put to sleep magically. Instead of sleeping you can spend time in a Trance meditating to regain strength. You only need 4 hours in a trance to rest, and are fully aware of your surroundings while doing so.

As an Aereni Elf you get Expertise in one skill of your choice: we’ll be taking Performance because... well you are a dancer. As a High Elf you learn one Cantrip from the Wizard list, and we’ll actually be taking Prestidigitation to aid in our performances. Oh and you’d normally be increasing your Intelligence by 1 but we’ll instead be increasing your Wisdom because... well it fits Irelia more. (No big loss if you increase Intelligence instead though.) And you can learn one language of your choice: pick whatever you think would inspire fear into the heart of Noxians!

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - A dancer is meant to be beautiful first and foremost.

14; DEXTERITY - Of course dancing takes nimbleness. "When no one's around, I dance for myself."

13; WISDOM - This is where the +1 from our race is going! Keep in-tune with the natural world and Ionia’s spirit.

12; CONSTITUTION - You are still a top laner with just... way too much sustain. (Feel free to swap this with Wisdom for more HP but less roleplay.)

10; INTELLIGENCE - Nature is an intelligence skill and military tactics are good to learn, but we simply need everything else more.

8; STRENGTH - You swing your blades with the rhythm of the natural order. Which is to say Riot doesn’t like buff ladies.

BACKGROUND

A dancer is a type of Entertainer. You get proficiency in Acrobatics but since you already have expertise in Performance feel free to grab Nature to become more in-tune with the world around you. You also get proficiency with a Disguise Kit and an instrument of your choice: pick whatever you think suits you and make your own Ionian war hero!

You feature By Popular Demand makes you known as both a dancer and a war leader! You can perform in exchange for a place to rest for you and your allies, and people will remember your dance and treat you with respect.

(Artwork by Bo “chenbowow” Chen. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ROGUE 1

What? Did you expect this to just be 20 levels of Swords Bard? Honestly Rogue serves as a better recreation of Irelia’s abilities, at least at early levels. That and I want proficiency in 4 skills, so take Insight, Persuasion, Intimidation, and Slight of Hand proficiency to lead and dance with grace. You also get Expertise in two of those skills: Acrobatics is a must but since we’ve already got proficiency in Performance you may as well grab Persuasion for good relations with Ionia’s people.

You also get Thieves’ Cant to speak in the way only other performers can understand, “performers” in this case being other Rogues. But of course the main skill you get is Sneak Attack, giving you an extra d6 of damage if you have advantage on your attack or an ally is near the enemy you’re attacking.

LEVEL 2 - ROGUE 2

I always love when I get to recreate League of Legends dashes by just... letting you use the Dash action a lot. Second level Rogues can make Cunning Actions to Dash, Disengage, or Hide as a Bonus Action. Keep it simple stupid and weave around your foes on the battlefield.

LEVEL 3 - ROGUE 3

Third level Rogues get to choose their Roguish Archetype, and to dance around the battlefield while slicing down foes the Swashbuckler is a great choice to keep your rhythm in check. Your Fancy Footwork will allow you to attack a foe before slipping away without provoking Opportunity Attacks while your Rakish Audacity will allow you to add your Charisma to your Initiative to always be the first on the front line.

Rakish Audacity also lets you Sneak Attack a foe who is alone on the battlefield as long as you don’t have disadvantage and they don’t have an ally within 5 feet, letting you hit them for an extra 2d6 with your blades.

Now may as well be a time to ask: Dual Wielding or single weapon? Since you’re not going to be getting a shield I’d say carrying two blades is worth it for the potential to deal more damage when needed. You can also use your Dual Wielding attack to activate Fancy Footwork more often to evade more enemies. Just be mindful of when Dashing or Dodging would be more useful.

LEVEL 4 - ROGUE 4

4th level Rogues get an Ability Score Improvement and Dexterity controls most of what we do right now, so a +2 to DEX would be beneficial.

LEVEL 5 - ROGUE 5

Normally I wouldn’t go out of my way to grab level 5 in Rogue just for the sake of Uncanny Dodge, but here’s the thing: it’s literally Irelia’s Defiant Dance! Take less damage from an attack you saw coming before striking back with your 3d6 Sneak Attack.

(Artwork by Michelle Hoefener. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 6 - BARD 1

Now it’s time for those 20 15 levels in Swords Bard! Multiclassing into Bard gives you proficiency with one musical instrument (pick your fancy) and one skill of your choice: I opted for Arcana because... well you’re fighting with magical floating blades. (Or at least you will be in due time.)

As a Bard you can inspire your allies as a Bonus Action thanks to Bardic Inspiration, letting them add a d6 to their Attack Rolls, Ability Checks, or Saving Throws. You have a maximum number of Inspiration die equal to your Charisma modifier, which come back after a Long Rest... for now.

But of course as a Bard you get Spellcasting! You learn two cantrips from the Bard list such as Message to communicate on the frontline, and Vicious Mockery which is sure what I fucking feel playing against an Irelia one-trick smurf account. You can also learn four leveled spells like Faerie Fire to mark your foes, Command to strike fear in the hearts of foes, Heroism to strike vigor in the hearts of allies, and Healing Word; because healing is always good to have.

LEVEL 7 - BARD 2

Second level Bards have dabbled in a little bit of everything: healing, damage, healing, mobility, healing, crowd control, oh and I think Irelia does need some more healing. Regardless Jack of All Trades will let you add half your proficiency bonus to any skill checks you aren’t already proficient in. (This also includes Initiative which is important to mention!)

If you use Tasha’s rules you can also grab Magical Inspiration to make your allies’ spells either heal more or do more damage thanks to your Inspiration. Oh and speaking of spells you can also grab Longstrider for more speed on the battlefield.

Oh and you get Song of Rest, the ability I always mock for scaling poorly. But it will help your allies recover after a hard battle!

LEVEL 8 - BARD 3

Irelia has many magical blades because she went to the College of Swords. Along with Bonus Proficiencies with Medium Armor and Scimitars (neither of which Rogues have for some reason) you can pick up a Fighting Style: I personally opted for Two-Weapon Fighting to get more attacks in but Dueling is also a perfectly fine.

Of course the main appeal of being a Blade Dancer is your Blade Flourish: When you attack on your turn you move 10 feet faster until the end of the turn, and if you hit you can use a Bardic Inspiration on a Blade Flourish:

Defensive Flourish lets you roll your Bardic Inspiration to add to your damage and AC.

Slashing Flourish lets you roll your Bardic Inspiration to add to your damage, and do that extra damage to any other creature of your choice (that you can see) within 5 feet of you.

Mobile Flourish lets you roll your Bardic Inspiration to add to (guess what) the damage. You can also push the target up to 5 feet away from you, plus a number of feet equal to the number you roll on that die. Immediately afterwards you can use your reaction to move up to your walking speed to an unoccupied space within 5 feet of the target. It’s not quite a Dash, but it’s certainly a Bladesurge!

You can only use one Blade Flourish per turn though. Additionally you get Expertise in two skills like Insight and Nature, to know the spirit of both people and the world around you. And finally you can learn a second level spell like Hold Person for a stun before you do your full combo.

LEVEL 9 - BARD 4

4th level Bards can grab something a little better than Flash; the Fey Teleportation feat! Along with a +1 to your Charisma you learn Sylvan, but most importantly you can cast Misty Step once per Short or Long Rest to get out of a dangerous situation! It unfortunately doesn’t add the spell to your spell list (like Fey Touched from Tasha’s Cauldron) but being able to regain your mobility spell after a Short Rest is extremely useful!

Speaking of spells you learn one more Bard spell, and one more cantrip! For your cantrip take Mage Hand to grab blades from afar, and for your leveled spell take Calm Emotions. It perhaps isn’t the most practical and there are certainly better options, but it’s fitting.

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 10 - BARD 5

5th level Bards get a Font of Inspiration, letting their Bardic Inspiration charges come back after a Short Rest. That’s nice because your Bardic Inspiration (and Blade Flourish die) also increases to a d8.

You can also grab a third level spell like Hypnotic Pattern, to stun an entire army with your blades.

LEVEL 11 - BARD 6

6th level Bards can finally turn their Vampiric Scepter into Blade of the Ruined King, giving them some Attack Speed for an Extra Attack. You can still only use one Blade Flourish per turn, but at least now you can attack twice with your action or up to three times if you make a Two-Weapon Fighting attack.

You can also grab another spell but there’s not much I want from third level, so instead I’ll talk about Countercharm, which is dumb and bad. You spend an action to give yourself and nearby allies advantage against Charms and Fears. Or you could fight through the fear and slay your foes... or cast Heroism or Calm Emotions.

LEVEL 12 - BARD 7

7th level Bards can learn 4th level spells like Dimension Door to teleport into lane or back to base, and Freedom of Movement for some Tenacity.

LEVEL 13 - BARD 8

8th level Bards get another Ability Score Improvement. We’ve been investing more in Bard so more Charisma would be nice for more Blade Flourishes and better spellcasting.

You can also learn another spell but again: don’t really want anything, so we’re going to wait for...

(Artwork by Jana Schirmer. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 14 - BARD 9

9th level Bards get to pretend that Song of Rest is a useful ability that scales well, especially when multiclassing. I mean, at least it’s a d8 now!

You also get 5th level spells like Animate Objects. Hey: it only took us 14 levels to get your blades! You can also grab Rary's Telepathic Bond (ty Tasha’s) to keep to team chat with everyone.

LEVEL 15 - BARD 10

10th level Bards get Expertise in two more skills: take Arcana to further your connection to Ionia, and Slight of Hand for the specific hand movements to manipulate your blades. You also see your Bardic Inspiration increase to a d10, which also means your Blade Flourishes deal a d10 of damage!

Additionally you get Magical Secrets from any class so you can use your unique brand of blade magic. And by far the most blade-like spell you can grab (at this level) is Steel Wind Strike, to dash through multiple foes for a big burst of damage!

Additionally we will be grabbing Blade of the Ruined King (finally) with Spirit Shroud; yes it’s a bit of a low-level spell but it serves as a great damage boost to your melee attacks and also keeps enemies close for you to fight them. And finally you get one more cantrip: Mending will help you keep your outfit in check.

Also if you want you can replace Message with Prestidigitation now that you have Rary’s Telepathic Bond.

LEVEL 16 - BARD 11

11th level Bards get 6th level spells: you can lean into your lessons as a dancer and take Otto's Irresistible Dance to force your foes to keep up with the rhythm or die trying. "Okay, I'm warmed up."

LEVEL 17 - BARD 12

12th level Bards don’t get extra spells, but they do get another Ability Score Improvement: more Charisma means more Bardic Inspiration die (for more Blade Flourishes), better spells, and more initiative so capping that out would give you more bang for your buck overall.

(Artwork by Art of Maki. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 18 - BARD 13

Hey remember when I said Song of Rest is a useful ability? Well it’s a d10 now!

At least you can learn Forcecage to take Noxians as prisoners of war to be properly judged... As long as they don’t have a filth bucket in their cell.

LEVEL 19 - BARD 14

14th level Swords Bards as masters of their blades, and can perform a Master’s Flourish using a d6 instead of one of their Bardic Inspiration.

You also get two more Magical Secrets, and hey we can finally grab your ult! Take Blade Barrier to cut the armies off with your Vanguard’s Edge. Alternatively if you need to go back to base take Word of Recall to recall back to your fountain. Which is to say: I had no other good spells to give you.

LEVEL 20 - BARD 15

15th level Bards see their Bardic Inspiration die (and their Blade Flourish die) increase to its maximum size of a d12! And you can cap off the build with an 8th level spell, but in all honesty there isn’t many spells I want from 8th level. So use that slot to upcast and take Hold Monster instead to finally be able to stun Wukong.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Grace bends where strength breaks - You have a variety of ways to deal consistent damage between competency with swords, Blade Flourishes, and powerful spells.

I move to unsung melodies and unbeaten rhythms - +12 to initiative and the ability to move between enemies you attack freely means you’re guaranteed to be on the battlefield fast and able to put yourself in a position to fight with your allies.

Never stop learning; there's always a form you don't know - It was not my intention but turns out Bards and Rogues get a lot of skill proficiencies. +17 in Performance and Persuasion, +16 in Acrobatics and Slight of Hand, +14 in Insight, and +12 in Arcana and Nature. Not to mention Jack of All Trades helping you with all the skills you don’t have proficiency in.

CONS

Each form has a name known only to the wind - So your Dexterity isn’t maxed out, which means you’re a little lacking in both AC and hit chance. Honestly level 5 of Rogue isn’t that good, even if Uncanny Dodge works well as Defiant Dance. 4 / 16 would’ve been better for another ASI.

Stay ready, and there is no need to get ready - Most of your fun spells are accessed at a very high level, with your lower leveled spells dedicated more to utility. You’re a sword fighter first and foremost but seeing as your Charisma is maxed it would be good to use your high Charisma.

We are sharpest where we break! - Low DEX and no Shield (no Shield spell and two-weapon Fighting) means that your AC isn’t the most impressive. That along with 120 health means that a few bad hits can put you in the danger zone. Sure Uncanny Dodge gives you a reliable way to soak up damage but a good surprise hit will quickly put an end to you.

But you don’t need to worry about weaknesses when you’re probably smurfing anyways. Dash, dance, and decapitate foes in a graceful death of a thousand cuts. Keep your style and inspire the commonfolk to take up arms to protect their homeland. Just don’t get too out of line, or Riot might nerf your movement speed by 5.

(Artwork by Bo “chenbowow” Chen. Made for Riot Games.)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd 5e #League of Legends #League of Legends Irelia #dnd bard #dnd rogue #better #nerf #Irelia #god I fucking hate this champ

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wheres-sam · 4 years

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I binge-watched the spn anime because of the brain rot

It’s bad except for the parts that are good, and it’s pretty to look at. Here’s a comprehensive list of pros and cons. Spoilers ahead!

Pros:

- more psychic kid backstories: Max (Nightmare), Lily (Darkness Calling), Jake (Loser)

- more psychic Sam

- more Azazel

- basically if you want more about the psychic/demon kids, watch the anime

- more young Winchesters

- the monsters, the superhuman abilities, the fight scenes, it all looks really cool animated. (But PSA it’s violent. It doesn’t shy away from blood and gore.)

- Sam and Jessica backstory

- more of the brothers being cute and funny together

- Missouri isn’t forgotten

- includes some Japanese legends/mythology

- the impala looks great in every scene. They did Baby good

- the “Supernatural” intro title

- the outro sketches of the boys hanging out with Baby

- Episodes adapted from the original show are different, but I like some of the changes? It’d be boring if it was an exact retelling and the visual medium wasn’t utilized. (I know I said spoilers before, but this is when they get detailed. If you wanna skip over, I’ll tell you where they STOP.)

Nightmare goes more into the abuse Max has suffered. Instead of locking Sam in a closet, Max sends Sam through the floor and covers the hole by breaking his bed in half, and it’s extremely sexy how Sam shoves the 2 halves apart with his mind. Later on Dean puts bandaids on Sam and they talk about demons loudly in front of a fast food intercom.

In My Time of Dying highlights the guilt Sam feels over Dean. In both the og and the anime John verbally blames Sam for not shooting Azazel, but where in the og Sam goes right on arguing, in the anime he reels back for a moment like he was slapped. Dean’s spirit touches Sam’s shoulder, and Sam knows immediately that it’s Dean. He doesn’t even question it. Instead of “Are you here?” it’s “I know you’re with me. I can feel it.” And I love that. Dean figures out right away he’s dealing with a reaper, and the reaper takes on the appearance of Mary to convince Dean to move on to the afterlife. Instead of a Ouija board, Sam uses a laptop to talk to Dean, and the first word Dean types is “Sammy!” Dean is so fond of his little brother and Sam is so baby.

Rising Son is an anime only episode, but it draws inspiration from John’s journal. Dean has a proper breakdown over his dad’s death and the possibility of having to kill Sam. Ms. Lyle, Sam’s favorite teacher who turns out to be possessed, is explored. John takes Dean hunting, and in the journal Dean hesitates to shoot a buck, and little Sam shoots it thinking it was endangering Dean. In the anime, Dean’s cornered by a moose and Sam makes it explode with his mind and it’s so !!! How little Sam’s first words are, “I’m glad you’re okay. It didn’t hurt you?” The boys are covered in blood and guts and Dean’s like 👁👄👁 “Why are you here? Did you do this?” And then Sam starts freaking out a little, the shock sets in. “I don’t know. I don’t know, honest.” And he’s staring at his hands, and I am a big fan of Sam showing superhuman signs as a kid. Like in the journal, Ms. Lyle tries to take Sam. She gives Sam the illusion of a choice to come with her or stay with Dean, and Sam chooses Dean. This ep is pretty much when John figures out Sam has demon blood. He kills another hunter that wants to kill Sam.

Crossroad is based on Crossroad Blues, and I love how the crossroads demon shows up. It’s hard to describe, but it’s so neat, like she’s walking underneath Dean in this mirror world, and then the mirror world takes over the regular world, so you really get this sense of otherworldly seclusion, existing outside of time.

What Is and Should Never Be shows Dean is a firefighter in his ‘Mary never died’ world, and Sam got to play soccer growing up like he wanted. The brothers hold each other after Dean is saved from the Djinn.

AHBL part 1. When Azazel shows Sam that he fed Sam his blood, Sam gags and slaps a hand over his mouth, and I like that reaction more than the live action. The psychic kids get to go more anime with their powers, and that’s a lot of fun. They don’t need weapons. Ava slams Sam into the brick side of a building and cuts him without touching him. Jake snaps Ava’s neck with one hand and then catches Sam in his arms. When Jake attacks Sam, there’s no gun or knife. He’s relying on his super strength, his fists. Sam throws his arms up to protect himself, and (accidentally?) pushes Jake back with his mind, and the collision creates a crater in the ground. Jake puts his fist through Sam’s chest to kill him. It’s brutal and it’s rad as fuck. These kids are terrifyingly powerful.

The Sam and Dean reunion before Sam is killed is not as emotional as the live action imo, but what the anime does intrigues me. Hurts in a different way. Because Sam is stunned after he uses telekinesis again, on Jake, and when he hears Dean behind him Sam freezes. He doesn’t look relieved to see Dean, but wary and weary. It’s Dean taking steps towards him, not the other way around, and it has to be because Sam doesn’t know if Dean saw him push Jake back. Sam doesn’t know how Dean’s going to respond to all this, to him, having powers that come from a demon, the demon, Azazel. Sam hasn’t had a chance to process anything. He’s scared. He’s tired. And the way the anime focuses on Sam’s eyes here. Gah. “Dean. Dean, I’m...” I’m sorry. I’m all right. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m a monster. There’s also this one shot between Sam and Azazel that sends me because of how anime it is.

AHBL part 2. I love how Sam brought back to life is animated, with all the color returning to his face and a light wind rustling his hair and his lips parting to indicate his soul returning to his body. Jake attacks Dean, and, a lot like how Sam activates telekinesis to save Dean from Max in Nightmare, Sam gets a burst of superhuman strength. He rips Jake’s arm off and tackles him to the ground and beats him to death, punches holes into his body, and it’s so savage and bloody and scary, and I love it. The Devil’s Gate opening looks so cool animated. Same goes for Dean shooting Azazel with the Colt.

Not to turn this into a meta post, but I also noticed how the last couple times Sam uses his powers they’re colored green-yellow, the same colors as Mary’s ghost when she reveals herself in the anime’s Home, and I don’t know if that’s intentional, but it’s neat how it draws a connection to Sam’s biological family instead of Azazel’s blood.

The Spirit of Vegas is like Bad Day at Black Rock, but Dean has all the bad luck instead, and it shows off the silly cartoony physics that make animation fun. The boys sleep outside and split a chunk of bread for dinner. Also this lil bit of Dean’s hair tied in a bow.

- (STOP) the brothers are pretty. I am not immune to animated Sam and Dean Winchester.

Cons:

- Jensen doesn’t voice Dean until the last 2 episodes

- The English dialogue is really bad sometimes. I wish I could’ve watched the sub, but I couldn’t figure out how to change the language

- Some character designs are really different from the live action, and maybe that’s petty, but if you’re gonna change the characters diversify them? Don’t just make them unrecognizable white people

- Missouri’s design as a stereotypical witch doctor is racist

- Gordon is replaced by some British guy named Jason?? Why

- There’s an LGBT character who is not accepted by her family and, while that bigotry is always shown to be negative and she dies the hero of the episode, she still dies ://

- In the English dub Lily’s gf is made into her roommate instead. Idk about the sub

- Bobby’s pretty much a totally different character

- Sam and Dean are OOC sometimes

- Dean’s hair usually looks darker than Sam’s and it drives me crazy

- The storytelling is, overall, not nearly as good as the live action

- The non-Japanese lore in some episodes makes no sense. Sometimes it’s just plain ridiculous?? Like there’s a giant robot made of cars and scrap metal controlled by a demon? ? I wish I was making this up

- Meg’s role is severely reduced

- No Harvelles or Roadhouse

- Shadows are overused, but maybe that’s because the og show is so dark?

- I don’t mind the art style. I like the aesthetic, but I wish it was a little more expressive. It doesn’t do Sam’s puppy eyes justice.

- AZAZEL’S SHADOW?? PROPORTIONS?? PEA SIZED HEAD

- Idk why they mashed season 1 and 2 together? The story feels rushed

- there’s not as much chemistry between Sam and Dean, but that’s a given without J2 on screen

- Nobody tells you!! That there’s scenes after the credits!! And some of them are important! Why are important scenes after the credits??

The anime would not be good on its own, without the heart and depth the live action brings, but it works as supplementary material you can cherry pick from. I would watch more if there were more episodes.

It hasn’t turned me off from wanting an spn anime. I’d like to see it continued or redone, with updated animation and better scripts. There’s a lot of potential in exploring more about the psychic kids and Sam’s powers, storylines that were cut short in the og show. Animation is a great medium for showing off the supernatural, getting creative and creepier with the designs, dramatic with the fight scenes, without having to worry about bad CGI. I don’t want a live action reboot, but I think a redone animated series could be a lot of fun! (As long as it’s not an excuse to make any romantic ships take over. SPN is a platonic love story, and I like it that way.)

If you made it to the end here and are interested in watching the spn anime, you can watch it for free on the CW Seed app! You can probably stream it elsewhere, but idk where!

#spn anime #supernatural #supernatural the anime #my detailed pros is pretty much me letting you know what episodes are worth watching #and why #its bad but I kind of like it #I like what they were going for. the potential it has #I like sam and there's lots of sam

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polyamorousmisanthrope · 3 years

Text

📷I took five minutes to vacuum my closet the other day. It was part of my routine cleaning, no big deal. It was just a quick thing to check off on my cleaning list. I removed some boxes of stuff in the bottom, a few pairs of slippers, and vacuumed. I replaced the stuff and went on with my---

No. I didn't.

No, I looked at the bottom of the closet in a state of shock and burst out laughing.

I have spent a large portion of my life trying to get organized. When I was a child, "cleaning my room" really did mean tossing everything I could think of where to put it in a closet so that it looked tidy when Mom poked her head in. I was the child with the cubby under the desk in grade school so stuffed with papers and junk that it was simply impossible to add or find anything.

This level of disorganization bothered and embarrassed me. It really hurt and made me feel like a failure.

As a teenager, my backpack also became a mess of papers, random items, books, and paraphernalia (no, not that kind. In many ways, I was hopelessly square)

As an adult, it wasn't much better. My desk was full of bills to be paid, papers I didn't want to face, things that were vaguely sentimental but not enough to display anywhere. My closet?

That was still the place where I hid stuff I didn't have a place for but wanted the room at least to appear a little tidy.

How long from a stuffed closet to a tidy closet?

It took about thirty years.

I wasted a lot of that time, though. I addressed it in cycles. "Starting now, I'm finally going to get organized!" I'd spend several hours a day over a few weeks cleaning, organizing, and playing possessions Tetris with my home. After a month or so, know what? The house would look great!

Then, inevitably, the house would no longer look great. I'd clean the kitchen well enough to prevent food poisoning, but more than that? Not so much.

Ever done that? C'mon, it's okay. We all have.

Being tidy over time is all about consistent action.

You can, indeed, get the house clean with heroic effort, just as you can work really hard to train for an athletic event.

The problem comes in when you do something intense for a short period. As I mentioned in my last post, heroic effort is unsustainable.

Several of my favorite housekeeping systems (Flylady and Unfuck Your Habitat) talk about starting very small – shining your sink or making your bed. They are so right!

It's not about getting tidied or organized quickly. It's about developing consistent habits. For a lot of people, that's enough.

But for some…

Executive dysfunction can interfere with consistency.

If you have organizational or distraction issues, habits may not be enough. Autism, ADHD, and a host of other neurodivergent issues centered around executive dysfunction make it hard to do things that seem pretty obvious to the neurotypical person. What? You need to wash the dishes after a meal? No kidding. Go do it!

As I was writing this article, I broke for dinner. Guess what is in my sink right now?

I thought about it, got up, scrubbed the pan a little, realized it needed to soak some more, and sat back down here to write. Sure, sure, I'll get to it after I finish this, no biggie. But if my sink was full of dishes other than that pan, if I had laundry on my sofa, a desk drawer full of unaddressed bills, and my phone beeping that I needed to get up and get my car to the garage to get the brakes done, would I be getting back to that pan in any reasonable amount of time?

*Hollow laugh*

People with executive dysfunction issues can find their problems painful.

Maybe some people laugh and think it's cute to be disorganized. It never felt cute to me. It hurt because I had a hard time doing what I wanted to do. I was utterly desperate to get my life under control. Completely and utterly desperate from the time I was nine years old. That's a heavy load.

Jokes about executive dysfunction aren't cute.

I know the whole "squirrel!" joke about distractibility is mean to make people feel better and okay with themselves. I never wanted to be okay with chaos. I wanted the chaos to stop. It hurt. It interfered with accomplishing what I wanted to. It was exhausting. It used up time I wanted to spend on other things. I wanted a clean canvas so that when I jumped from obsession to obsession to obsession, I could feel like I was using that time intelligently rather than as a distraction from things that were bothering me.

Late fees, court cases, and lost jobs aren't cute, either.

There's an ADHD vlogger that I really like named Jessica McCabe. She's brilliant and adorable, and being a little bit of the manic pixie thing is part of her brand. It gets people to listen to broad issues of executive dysfunction. People will accept and listen to that stuff sometimes and find it palatable if someone is small and young and cute. (She's a LOT older than her looks or mannerisms would indicate, by the way).

So, the brilliant part. Quite sure McCabe knows what she's doing with that because sometimes she drops the adorable thing. The pain of being disorganized or having a hard time directing attention is very, very clear. If she weren't so cute, it would be unlikely as many people would listen to the important things she is saying. There's more to her than cute by a long shot. (And don't get me started on the sexism of it).

But that whole "cute" thing about disorganization. It's not so cute when unpaid bills land you in court. That has happened to me. With money in the BANK, that has happened to me! (Or without money. *shrugs* That, too). It's not cute when you have to buy a car at interest rates that are close to what you'd pay on a credit card. Yeah, that's happened, too. That we're in good financial shape now is a miracle.

There is a cultural narrative of *giggle* *giggle* "I'm so distractable!" to try to ameliorate the pain of being disorganized. Know what? It's not funny. It hurts.

Proscriptive solutions won't work.

I use a Bullet Journal just about with the out-of-the-box method that Ryder Carrol posted in that first video he did about it. I tried it, and it clicked.

Know what wouldn't have clicked? Someone making me do it when I was fifteen.

This is where you, if you have problems with executive dysfunction, might wonder if I can provide an answer for you. Know what? I can't.

I can say, "You need a Bullet Journal." I mean, I'll think it. I wouldn't say it. Know why? It won't necessarily work for you.

What I will say is that you need to find methods that work for you.

"Okay, smartybrat," I hear you cry, "if you can't offer a solution, what do I do?"

Create systems that support you

This is going to look different depending on how you think. Does a beepy reminder go bing! and prompt you to do stuff? Do you like to have a menu of tasks that you choose from depending on how easily they grab your attention in the moment?

What primes you to take action?

What plans have you followed through on (c'mon, you do have some if you're alive past 20), and what about them made you feel good?

My husband doesn't use a Bullet Journal. He plans his day using a calendar app. If there's an interrupt to a task, he'll move it to another free time. When you first try this, I strongly encourage you to multiply your estimation of task time by at least four until you get good at estimating how long something will take. If you have executive dysfunction issues you're struggling with, I'd bet at least a nickel that you're not good at estimating how long things take yet.

What stops you from taking action? Can you remove the interrupts?

A simple example would be to take the dirty clothes hamper's lid off if that's enough to discourage you from tossing your clothes in the hamper. Still, I'm not talking about "Tips 'n Tricks" here. I hate tips 'n tricks! They're like taking a Tylenol when you cut off your leg. You need to extrapolate that to life systems to support how you want to live.

Your system is useless until you define "good enough."

I could skip the next two or three times I need to vacuum my closet, and I wouldn't care. If I get to it every year or so, it's absolutely good enough. "Good enough" means I address my paperwork file once a week and clear it out. I don't have to do it every day unless I feel like it. "Good enough" is walking for five minutes on the hour around my living room until I get my 10,000 steps in. I don't have to walk for three miles unless I want to. "Good enough" is spreading up the bed and tossing the shams at the head. I don't have to bounce a quarter off the damn thing unless I get a wild hare to do that sometimes. Don't give yourself an image of perfection you have to attain, or you'll do nothing.

It's okay for "good enough" to change

Remember how it took thirty years to get to vacuuming a closet? There was a time when that chore wasn't on the "good enough" list, and ya know what? That's fine. Have your "good enough" be slightly, but only slightly, ahead of what you're currently doing if you want to make improvements. Incremental improvements over time, and I mean decades, are pretty dramatic when you look back.

Good enough can stay good enough

My exercise parameters have me getting in an average of 10,000 steps a day as measured over a month. That is never going to change. If the Spirit moves me, I'll do more. But I'm not going to keep raising the bar over and over and over. This is it. I'm good. I'm maintaining.

It takes decades to get your life in order. What small thing will you do today?

#executive dysfunction #adhd

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abnerkrill · 4 years

Note

All numbers from 1-30 for your writing ask! Please?

um yes absolutely, thanks for asking!! lol I have a lot to say so buckle up :’)

1. What’s your WIP title and any working titles it’s had in the past?

My current feature screenplay is called “Charity” and it’s never had any other name. I am open to changing it in the future, but for now I think it’s a decent working title!

2. If you could write for any currently airing TV show, what would you choose and why?

omg... The Mandalorian of course... I just think I would be an excellent fit for our fave Star Wars space western, and I just love the show so much <3

3. If you could go back in time and change the series finale/ending of any TV show, what would it be and what changes would you make?

going to have to go with Star Trek: Voyager on this. I love the show to bits, but the final few minutes are SO unsatisfying, and I’d want to extend the ending to include an epilogue of sorts showing their return to Earth and the resolution of several major relationships.

I would also kill the Chakotay/Seven romance dead because Janeway/Chakotay is where it’s at >:(

4. What’s a trope you find yourself including in almost all your works?

I LOVE giving my characters truly awful moral dilemmas where there’s no right choice and either way someone gets hurt :))

5. What’s a trope you hate/could never bring yourself to write?

love at first sight...... nope, can’t do it! it’s slow angsty buildup or nothing, baby!

6. What’s your OTP from your own writing and what’s their story?

I’m REALLY sorry for outing myself as a self-insert/canon character shipper, but my Star Wars OC Akēna ends up with Axe Woves from the Mandalorian. I know he literally has 3 lines in the show, but I love Simon Kassianides so much and came up with this whole angst-ridden backstory for Axe that I just literally can’t resist

(His parents were Death Watch, he wanted to leave Mandalore for good to escape that history, but the Mandalorian genocide/Purge brought him back to fight for vengeance and to support the survivors, and he’s struggling with the legacy of just what it means to be a Mandalorian. [Religious deconstruction, anyone??] Then Axe and Akēna meet when Axe is on a mission for Bo-Katan that brings him to the planet where Akēna’s been in self-imposed exile for the past year, then they go on lots of fun/action-packed space travel with slow burn shenanigans and defeat Akēna’s archenemy, who killed her dad.)

7. What mashup of two writers/filmmakers matches your storytelling vibe? (___ meets ___)

I while back I said I was Madeleine L’Engle + China Mieville and I stand by that!

8. If your WIP was being made into a film, who’d you want to direct it? (Choose an established filmmaker)

perhaps Cathy Yan (Birds of Prey)—it’d be important to me to have an Asian woman directing Charity and I looove her visual style!

9. Who would you cast as your main character/s in the screen adaptation of your WIP?

Jessica Henwick as Krida (she’s a bit too young but she’s so gooooood), David Morrissey as Dr. Brandon Lane, haven’t decided the rest of the cast but maybe Maggie Q as Verda, Dominique Tipper as Mia, Bob Morley as Raul??

10. If you could collab with any living writer on a full length work, who’d you choose and what would your project be?

hmm, this one’s tough but honestly I’d love to write a fantasy-horror screenplay with Guillermo Del Toro. I just want to learn from him and I think he should do more fantasy!!

11. What are your favorite and least favorite genres to write?

Fave: high fantasy, space opera, urban fantasy. Least fave: contemporary drama and romantic comedy.

12. List the top 3 words/phrases you find yourself unintentionally writing over and over. (E.g., my characters are always furrowing their brows)

my characters definitely furrow their brows, glance away, and inhale/exhale too often lol

13. Your WIP is being adapted into a TV show. What song plays over the main credits and what’s the vibe/aesthetic of the credit sequence?

this one’s hard because I have so many songs I love!! for Charity, maybe the chorus of WHAT YOU GONNA DO??? by Bastille. I’d love for the main credits to be really a jarring juxtaposition of the hedonistic cruise vibes + the blood/sweat/violence of the latter half of the story. (It doesn’t really work as a TV show because it’s very much a standalone film lol.)

14. Share your WIP’s plot like it’s a Reddit “am I the asshole” post.

Okay so I’m (F38) on this luxury cruise [AN: through space, because as a rule I write sci-fi and fantasy] and started seeing this guy (M50s?? let’s call him Brandon) who’s probably newly divorced but we aren’t really talking about our respective reasons for going on a cruise alone. That’s just not what this relationship is. Everything’s fine and I’m doing a great job at distracting myself from real life™, but then our ship is rerouted to respond to a ship in distress a few hours away.

Brandon’s a medical professional so he volunteers to assist. I’m in marketing with no medical certification so I feel kind of useless. I go and get a little bit drunk with a new friend who also feels useless (F35, we’ll call her Mia). Mia tells me she’s been seeing one of the ship’s third engineers, and through him, we get access to the engineer group chat, where we find out that our ship is literally breaking all the speed rules and going way over the recommended limit for this vessel, putting all of our lives in danger to try to reach this other ship faster, with no certainty that we’ll actually arrive in time to save anyone.

At this point I haven’t told anyone but Brandon that my estranged older sister (F50, we’ll call her Verda) is actually the ship’s captain, and I came onboard in hopes of reconnecting with her, I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. But as we read the engineer group chat, Mia and I get more and more convinced that the ship’s top brass (meaning my sister!) are keeping important info from the passengers, and we might actually be in real danger of dying because they’re pushing the ship too hard.

Now here’s where I might kind of be the asshole. I’m legitimately concerned that we’re putting our lives at risk (and potentially destroying our ship!), and while my sister’s a really smart woman, obviously she’s keeping our speed and the actual status of the other ship a secret from the passengers. So I use my relationship with my sister to visit her on the bridge, cause a distraction, and broadcast our current speed and the status of the sinking ship across the entire ship.

So Reddit, help a girl out: who’s the asshole here, my sister (who might actually have killed us on our way to help that other ship) or me, literally just trying to save our lives? Oh yeah, I almost forgot, I’ve been lying to Brandon about what I’m up to via text message this whole time, but I felt like he didn’t really deserve to know. We’re not even in a relationship and this just wasn’t something I felt I had to involve him with. That was kind of asshole-y of me, but telling him the truth also would’ve been weird!

15. Share a line from your WIP that you’re proud of.

I love this exchange:

Then an AUDIO RECORDING: Mia hits play. Alby's a Southern girl--with a sailor's mouth. The roar of the ENGINE can be heard behind her.

Alby (v.o.): Y'all aren't going to believe this shit when you get up--I've never gone faster than 21 knots on a fucking cruise ship--I didn't think it was possible--oh, man, engine watch is having a night. Couple of officers came down here to oversee it. I'm just chilling till they tell me to suit up. (muffled--to others in the room) Hey, how fast are we going?

ENGINEER: (v.o.): Just passed 24 knots.

Alby (v.o.): Ho-ly shit.

END OF ACT

16. Share the most recent line from your WIP.

“Krida turns off the lights and they head out.“—wow that’s a boring line but at least I’m making progress on the script??

17. Share your top 3 strengths as a writer.

consistent idea generation, killer loglines, and sheer stubbornness to keep at this writing thing lol :’)

18. Share something about writing/craft you learned recently.

well, the other day I heard from a screenwriting/TV writing podcast that I should really have 6+ scripts in my pocket before striking out as a writer. which I am absolutely Not doing because I just have 2 scripts right now. oh well!!

19. You’re given a blank check to adapt a book or book series into a TV show, miniseries, film, or film series. What book/s do you choose and which medium do you use for the adaptation?

ooh okay I’ve LONG dreamed of adapting The Dark is Rising by Susan Cooper into an extended miniseries (like a few episodes for each book), but I also acknowledge that should really be done by a Welsh person because it’s so steeped in Welsh geography, culture, and mythology.

I would also KILL to do a Queen’s Thief film series but someone is already adapting it, and besides I don’t know if I’m smart enough to catch all the subtle winks and foreshadowing in those books!! so my real answer is maybe the Westmark books by Lloyd Alexander as a film trilogy :)

20. You can hang out with any living author for a day, who do you choose and what do you hope you’ll talk about?

TA Barron, author of the Lost Years of Merlin series. He seems like such a genuinely wholesome, smart, compassionate guy and I’d love to just bask in his wisdom and maybe take a nature hike with him tbh

21. What’s your ideal readership, publication, or writing career path for the next 5-10 years? (Sky’s the limit, but also fine if you don’t have publication as a goal!!)

I want to have an agent and be on a TV writing staff, writing spec features for fun. Ideally I’d make enough money from TV writing to not have a subsistence job on the side, ahaha. TV writing jobs are just like... you’re employed in a room for a few months and then the show ends and you have to scramble for another job or just be unemployed for a while? which sucks. but at least I’m walking into this career with no delusions of grandeur!!

22. You’re a ~famous writer~ who has a special muse-like relationship with an actor/actress (think Greta Gerwig and Saoirse Ronan.) Who is it and which of your characters do you cast them as?

Jessica Henwick is kind of already like this for me. I saw her in promo material for Iron Fist and went “wait that’s me” :’) (terrible show though, glad she’s onto better things these days.) I’d cast her as Iphigenia and Akēna and maybe Krida, though I’d be a little uncomfy with the age difference if Brandon’s actor is really 20+ years older lol, so I’d reconsider that if this were an actual thing

Side note: I’d also LOVE to cast Kelly Marie Tran and Lana Condor in everything!!!

23. Which of your characters is most likely to be voted prom king/queen/monarch?

I think I mentioned Blake Rosario Marquez in another ask as someone who would play wonderwall on an acoustic guitar just not knowing about the memey implications... everyone loves him and he’s very charming so he’s probably an easy bet for prom king!!

24. Which of your characters is most likely to go through life like Goob from Meet the Robinsons?

there’s one character in Iphigenia’s contemporary magic story, Hector Loren, who is 100% this. He’s the brother of the main villain and he feels horribly complicit in her evil deeds, though he did his best to limit the harm she caused. He’s convinced everyone hates him and he deserves it :(

25. If you make character or story moodboards, share a recent fave!

this is for my sweet, sad selkie character Bellan!

26. If you make character or story playlists, share the tracklist from a recent fave!

okay okay this is the angsty man who accidentally stole his lover’s selkie skin a decade ago and is now trying to make amends :’(

a playlist for rivke marhos (oh, my heart, i cannot face him now)

fear - sleeping at last, fallen empires - snow patrol, róróró - of monsters and men, the haunted man - bat for lashes, in my veins - andrew belle, sorrow - sleeping at last, i have made mistakes - the oh hellos, particles - ólafur arnalds and nanna bryndís hilmarsdóttir, shrike - hozier, falling slowly - marketa irglová and glen hansard, sudden love - the woodlands, oh love - phildel, if i knew - bat for lashes, leave the war with me - london grammar, place for us - mikky ekko, samson - regina spektor, ready to lose - ingrid michaelson, unbroken - birdy, union stone - phildel, everything i need - skylar grey, our corner of the universe - ks rhoads, we’ve only just begun - bat for lashes

27. One of your stories gets an amusement park/theme park attraction—what's it like? (Can be a ride, interactive theater event, ren faire-like immersive experience, etc...)

I ADORE the idea of interactive theater events for my stories, but a space cruise ship disaster a la Titanic sounds extremely traumatic?? probably not a good idea in general!

I would love to be able to “visit” my fantasy worlds, especially the city of Varvaris! it’s kind of Mont-Saint-Michel + Tashbaan from Narnia. People could dress up and go to the market and join a croquet tournament in the palace and go fishing at the docks... maybe sneak through the drainage tunnels and join up with various guilds and shadowy factions...??

28. Do your character names have meanings? If not, what are some faves and how did you come up with them? If yes, what are some fave character names and their meanings?

For contemporary stories, I often choose names with specific meanings or mythological/folkloric backgrounds. Iphigenia is a Greek tragic character, the daughter of Agememnon, whom Agamemnon sacrifices. (Is her destiny to die for her people? or can that be averted?)

Also because I’m an incorrigible writer of self-inserts, I will confess that I extrapolated the name Iphigenia from the nickname Nia, which I chose because it’s made of letters from my first name. Akēna is a mangled misspelling of my name backwards.

For fantasy/sci-fi stories, I’ll go with cool-sounding names drawn from specific linguistic backgrounds—I generally dislike just mashing sounds together without rhyme or reason. Rivke is kind of Dutch and Bellan is kind of Roman/Latin.

29. Which of your characters is most likely to start a podcast, and what's it on?

this is totally crack but I personally want to hear the “Akēna interviews important Star Wars characters she’s briefly run into” podcast. like she maybe has met Din Djarin and Grogu once, she and Bo-Katan are reluctant allies but also dislike each other (character bleed?? why i never—), she’s definitely heard of Luke Skywalker, etc... possibilities are endless

30. Is there a dream story/vibe for a story you want to write someday but haven't gotten around to yet?

SOMEDAY I’ll write my vaguely dystopian/futuristic King Arthur :(

#helathorloki #can you tell i wrote the ask game because these are the questions i specifically want to answer :')

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banditthewriter · 5 years

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Electric Love - Billy Russo

I’m kinda nervous about this one, not gonna lie. Hopefully someone enjoys it though, even if it’s just one person hahaha okay, enough of that.

I’ve also got a few ideas about a sequel if... that’s a thing.

Summary: Includes a powered reader, a fake death, and a creepy guy called the creator.

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif is mine*

Enjoy!

*****

The penthouse apartment was large, with windows that stretched across an entire wall. It looked surprisingly lived in, which for some reason didn’t fit what you knew about it’s occupant. Perhaps once upon a time, when home was a one bedroom apartment with faded and peeling wallpaper in every room, but now?

Books lined one of the bookcases, movies lined the other. You walked in front of them and let your fingers linger over some of the familiar titles.

Somewhere deep inside of your chest, there was a tightness that felt an awful lot like a rubber band being pulled to its breaking point. You pressed your hand over the ache and turned your eyes to the front door. In the distance you could hear the elevator working.

It was now or never. You could still leave, still avoid this. Instead you moved a little from the bookcase and stood your ground. You didn’t want him to think you were hiding when he got there.

Footsteps. You listened to the familiar pattern of his walk, a long stride that compensated for his long legs. And then, at the door, the jangling of keys. Moments later, the locks were undone and the door was pushed open.

He turned with the door to enter in his key code so that the alarm wouldn’t go off. You watched as he shut the door, locking it behind him. Then he turned to head towards the bedroom.

But he didn’t get that far. In a flash he spun around, his gun in hand. It took you a moment to realize the gun was aimed at you.

Slowly you raised your hands and stepped into a piece of moonlight that filtered through one of the large windows. The time it took him to recognize you stretched into silence.

Billy Russo was not used to be caught off guard. He probably wasn’t even too surprised to find someone in his home. No, his surprise fell to exactly who it was that had gotten in. His eyes widened and then narrowed, his gun being aimed a little higher.

“You’re dead.”

It wasn’t a statement of the future, despite how it sounded. No, he was stating a fact of the past. You were dead.

“Didn’t stick,” you offered as you lowered your hands to your sides. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

He shook his head. There was a barely there tremor in his hands as well.

“You’re dead,” he repeated, clinging to the things he considered facts this whole time. “We buried you. There was a funeral.”

“It was a beautiful service. I liked the suit you wore,” you added as you touched the space over your chest, “the handkerchief was a nice touch. My favorite color.”

His hands shook as he lowered the gun, letting it hang from one hand.

“I watched you die.”

He had. Your last memory before you gave in to the darkness were his eyes, his mouth pleading with you to stay with him. You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him, so you had simply closed your eyes and slipped away. So yes, he had watched you die.

“Like I said, it didn’t stick,” you repeated as you turned your head to look around the apartment some more, having to look away from him. “I was brought back.”

“Are you a ghost?”

You smiled as you turned and gave him your back. Partially to put him at ease, but also so that he could see that you weren’t see through.

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Neither are alcoholic private investigators with superhuman strength, but I just saw Jessica Jones two days ago. So forgive me for asking if you’re a fucking ghost.”

Anger. He had gone through disbelief quicker than you had expected. But anger was something you were better at handling with him.

“It’s kind of the same thing,” you offered in truce, turning back to face him, “how she is the way she is and how I’m back here. The man that created me has abilities and one of those is bringing people back from the dead. But we come back different.”

Billy tilted his head a bit before he stuck his gun into the waistband of his pants. He took a few steps towards you and you caught your breath. He looked good like this. Better than you had imagined.

“Different how?”

You raised one hand up to your side, palm up. As you did, all of the lights in the apartment started to flicker. The television came on and off, the channels changing as it did. The stereo started up, flicking between stations. In the kitchen, various appliances were turning on and off.

“I can control electric waves that are in the air.”

You closed your fist around the pulse and everything went silent. There was a light emanating from your fist but you willed it into your skin rather than let it out in a blast. Then, with great difficulty, you looked up at Billy.

You expected fear, but you should have known better. He did look off kilter, but not afraid. Not of you.

“Is that where you’ve been for the last two years?”

Straight to the point. It was why you came to Billy. While you knew that time would have erased whatever feelings he had for you, having buried them as deep as they had buried your empty casket, you knew that you could trust him to be mission minded. And if you were coming out of hiding after two years, there had to be something you needed from him.

“The man that made me is losing grip. Three of the other metas that he created have been killed trying to do jobs for him.” The last one had been recently and it was still sore for you. “I’m supposed to do a job and it’s dangerous.”

Here Billy shifted. You watched as he pulled the soldier out of the closet and slid into the old habits as easily as a favorite jacket. His body fell into parade rest, his hands clasped together. He looked much like you imagined he would at a briefing from a superior.

“And you need my help.”

Not a question. You waited a beat and then nodded your head.

“What’s the job?”

You let out a breath, feeling the tingle up the back of your spine that told you that the creator was looking for you. You still had a short time before you would be found, but you needed to be fast. That in mind, you nodded and explained the situation.

“I’m supposed to break into the Pentagon. Yeah,” you said when Billy’s eyes got wider at that, “exactly. If I get caught, I get killed. If I fail, I get killed by him. If I succeed, at best I’ve betrayed my country and I’m a terrorist.”

“What does he want you to do there, fry their computers?”

You shook your head and looked around. On a desk on the far side of the room was a computer. You pointed two fingers at it and focused. Something visibly jumped between the computer and your fingers and you rubbed your fingers together afterward.

“You really need to update your antivirus if you’re going to be browsing porn,” you said as you wiped your hand on your jeans, giving Billy a bit of a smirk, “and I see that your tastes haven’t changed.”

He opened his mouth and then let out a laugh. It was the first sign that he was relaxing around you and you relished in the sound. God, being apart from him had been hell.

Still was hell. Just because you were here with him now, didn’t mean things were going to be the same. No, you just needed help. That’s all this was.

“So what’s the plan to keep you from stealing from the Pentagon?”

Here you took a deep breath. The tingle was resting at the base of your skull, telling you to get out soon. If you waited much longer, you wouldn’t have a chance.

“I need your help to kill my creator.”

Billy didn’t even blink.

“Name the time and place.”

As easy as that. You felt relief soar through you. Then you cleared your throat and checked the watch on your wrist.

“I have to go or he’ll find me. But I’ll come to you soon and we’ll figure out the plan.”

He gave you a nod to show that that was fine with him. You carefully made your way around him, trying to keep as much space between the two of you as possible while you were lit. It didn’t seem to matter because his hand wrapped around your wrist anyways. You knew he must have felt the shock in his palm, but he didn’t react.

“It’s good to see you,” he said quietly, shaking his head as his eyes moved over your face. “You can’t imagine how good it is to see you again.”

Except you could imagine it. Instead of saying that, you looked at where he was holding your wrist. When he released you, you jerked your fingers to send the building electrical current back under your skin.

“I’ll find you soon.”

And then you slipped out of the penthouse and down the hall to the elevator. It usually didn’t work from the penthouse without a key, but when had that ever stopped you?

------

Lightning flickered in the sky and you frowned. Seconds later a rumble of thunder shook the window next to you. You settled back into your seat and looked around the diner. It was pretty busy for this time of night, but it looked like it was mostly college kids who needed a break from studying.

“Strange place to meet,” a voice said before a body slid into the booth with you.

Billy looked good. Ridiculously good. You couldn’t see him too clearly the night you broke into his home, but here under the lights? He looked good. Slicked back hair, facial hair at just the right length. His leather jacket was open a little at the top and showed that he was wearing a dark sweater under it.

Good enough to eat.

You felt a tingling sensation at the tips of your fingers that had nothing to do with your powers and you reached out for your cup of coffee, steadying yourself.

“It’s better to be in public. Less likely to be followed that way.”

Because the people who would follow you wouldn’t stray into public if they could help it, especially not your creator.

“Not worried about seeing someone that recognizes you from before your untimely death?”

You met Billy’s dark eyes evenly across the table.

“Did you know there are electric waves in the human brain? I’ll admit I don’t understand it completely, was never good with science, but I do know that I have enough control that I can scramble someone’s memory. They could look me in the face and with one twitch of my wrist, they’ll think they hadn’t seen me or anyone else that day.”

You weren’t very good with it and tended to fry the person’s brain if you tried to remove too much at once, but Billy didn’t need to know that.

“Good to know. So we doing this here? Gonna plan to take out your ‘creator’ with half the college population ordering pancakes behind us?”

You shrugged your shoulder and took another sip from your mug.

“You have a better idea?”

He raised his hand, keys dangling from his fingers. You caught sight of something before he jerked his the keys back into his palm and jerked his thumb towards the door.

“Come on, let’s go to the car. We can have some privacy that way.”

After paying for your coffee and leaving a tip, you followed him out to the car. It was expensive and flashy, but nice. He held the door open for you and then shut it carefully. You watched him cross over to the driver’s side. When he got in, he hesitated before he slid the keys into the ignition but didn’t turn it over.

You reached out and let your finger rest on something that hung from a keychain. At first you thought it was a simple silver band, but it rotated and you caught sight of a diamond that was embedded into the band. There was something engraved on the inside of the band, but you couldn’t make it out from the distance.

“This creator, does he have any powers?”

He didn’t pull the ring away from you, but you knew he was drawing your attention from it. You leaned up and gave a nod, but then amended that.

“Yeah, but not something that he can use in a fight. He has the ability to bring people back from the dead, but it doesn’t always even work.”

“You think he’ll be able to bring himself back to life?”

You hadn’t thought about it, but you had watched his process before. It didn’t seem to be possible, but what would you know?

“I guess we’ll see,” you said with a shrug as you looked away from Billy and out of the window. “I can’t do it because of him creating me. He can sense me the same way I can sense him. He’ll go underground if he knows that I’m a danger to him.”

Billy drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment.

“So you lure him out and I’ll do the deed.”

It was the easiest plan. You could call him and have him meet you at your safe house, tell him you were having second thoughts. Once he got there, Billy could do his part and then the two of you could get rid of the evidence.

“And then what? Once he’s dead and you no longer have to do anything for him. What then?”

You hadn’t gotten that far in your thoughts. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought about that apartment the two of you shared a few years ago with its peeling wallpaper and the kitchen sink which dripped all the time.

It was just a dream now.

“Then I’ll be free.”

Free. Whatever that meant anymore.

------

Billy was sitting on the edge of a chair in your safe house. He had seemed surprised that you lived somewhere so empty, but you explained that you didn’t have much anymore.

“It’s easier to pack up and leave when you don’t actually have anything to pack.”

He understood that.

The gun on the table beside him felt like a beacon to you. You couldn’t tear your eyes from it, no matter how hard you tried. And when you were able to look away, you could still feel it there on the table. Waiting.

“I went to your grave every day for a while,” Billy said quietly, leaning back in the chair to observe you.

“Oh?” You looked over at Billy and caught the look in his eyes. “Oh.”

The two of you were silent after that. Billy had missed you, but you had imagined that would be the case. But then you thought about the ring he had hanging from his keychain and wondered just how much he had missed you.

The relationship the two of you had ended with your death, but maybe the feelings hadn’t stopped.

“Do you still love me?”

You looked over at Billy in surprise, mouth working silently as you tried to figure out a response to that.

Before you could give your response much thought, you felt a familiar tingle up the back of your neck. You held your finger to your lips and pointed to the door. Billy grabbed the gun and moved to the closet, hiding behind a partially closed door. He had reluctantly agreed to give you a chance to get the creator to free you before he killed him.

A few moments later, you heard a knock at the door. With a wince, you moved over and unlocked the door.

The creator was a man with such thin skin that it looked almost see-through. Veins laid under the translucent skin like a roadmap. He wore a pair of gloves to keep his skin from coming in contact with anyone, a pair of sunglasses hiding the fact that his eyes were almost completely white.

“You are having second thoughts?”

To say the least. You shut the door as he walked in, locking it. Your chest felt tight as you did it. This would be the end one way or another.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” you explained as you moved to stand on the other side of him, keeping him between you and the closet. “I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be free.”

The creator didn’t say anything, but he lowered his glasses. You watched those eerie eyes move over you with a calculating gaze.

“When I first gave you life, you begged to come back to New York to find that man, Russo. You begged to be able to say goodbye to him. Do you remember that?”

You could feel Billy’s surprise in the closet at that, but you tried not to react.

“Sir,” you began, but he waved you off.

“I gave you life so it belongs to me. I kept you from saying goodbye because he was from your first life and does not belong in this version of you. And you will do as I’ve told you because it is my will.”

Surely at this point, Billy was raising the gun and preparing. It was obvious the creator wasn’t going to let you go, not without a fight. And you were tired of fighting.

The creator moved as if he was looking at something over your shoulder. Then in a flash, faster than you thought him capable of moving, he had his hand around your throat, your back pressed to his chest. The movement was enough to make Billy come out of hiding, his gun raised in your direction.

“I could smell him,” the creator explained as his gloved fingers flexed over your neck. “I felt the moment you found him again, felt your rebellion on the rise. Did you think I was stupid enough to let you come to New York without keeping an eye on your one weakness?”

You raised your hand, pulling electricity to you, but he squeezed and it left you in a wave. It was one of the only things he was able to do besides bring life back; he could somewhat control the powers of those that he created.

“Release her.”

The words were bitten out from Billy’s clenched teeth as he tried to get a clear shot.

“I could say the same to you,” the creator taunted as he dragged you backwards with him, away from the door. “She could have been my greatest creation if she wasn’t tethered to you. Love is weakness, my child, I have told you that from the start.”

His hand tightened on your throat and you reached up to scratch against the leather of the glove, desperate to get a breath.

Billy surged forward, but the creator tilted your head at an unnatural angle and let out a blood chilling laugh.

“Not even I can bring her back a second time, soldier. Stay where you are.”

No, not like this. You refused to die twice. You refused to lose Billy twice. You refused to force Billy watch you die twice.

With a deep breath, you focused the energy in your body. There was very little contact between you and the creator, but you finally found a point. His cheek was pressed just to the tip of your ear with the way he had your head tilted.

That little connection was enough. You met Billy’s eyes and hoped he could see it in your eyes. Your plan. Your love.

It only took a second. You built the surge in your chest and forced it outward. The contact between his cheek and the tip of his ear was just enough to have the electricity force through him. He seized your throat tighter before his hand shot away from you, pushing you away to try to break the contact.

Billy fired off the shot the moment you were free. The creator didn’t have a moment to look shocked; his body fell straight to the ground the instant the bullet tore through his head.

Then Billy was there, his hands reaching out to touch you to check if you were alright. You were choking on lungful after lungful of air, but you tried to shake your head and warn him off. Either he didn’t understand your warning or he didn’t care, because he reached out and touched your cheek and neck with his bare hands.

But nothing happened. Your electricity didn’t go through him, although you could feel it still zipping around under your skin. He leaned in and rested his forehead against yours, more contact, but nothing happened.

It was like your gift recognized Billy as part of you.

“So, about that question I asked you earlier,” he teased as he leaned back, his dark eyes meeting yours easily.

You laughed, unable to help it. You were free.

Free.

With that in mind, you leaned up and let your lips brush across Billy’s. The electricity you felt at that simple touch was less about your gift and more about the chemistry the two of you had always had. It was love.

------

You sat with your hand in Billy’s, admiring the way your nerve endings seemed to light up with his touch. He had told you that he could feel the spark, but that it didn’t hurt.

Besides your death, you were incapable of hurting him.

On your finger sat the ring you had once noticed on his keys. He had given it to you a few days after he had killed your creator, but he told you he had bought it right before you had died. Even though people told him to get rid of it, he hadn’t been able to.

And now he knew why. Because deep down he knew you weren’t gone.

The two of you knew that life was going to be different. Billy was mixed up with things at work that were dangerous, but it didn’t bother you. And now he had a secret weapon: you.

On the inside of the ring was the inscription “Till death do we part” and you had smiled when you had seen it. Not even death could separate you and Billy.

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #my writing

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gamersonthego · 4 years

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Blaseball: The New National Pastime

Blaseball is my favorite game to come out this year so far, and that’s kind of an odd thing to say considering Blaseball barely feels like a game at all.

Blaseball is a splort in which 20 teams compete under the Internet League Blaseball organization, day and night, rain or shine, and at the behest of us fans who vote to remake the league in our own image.

That’s what the Blaseball FAQ says anyway. Less cryptically, Blaseball is a browser game — a massively multiplayer one at that — in which a league of fictional teams play something vaguely baseball adjacent while we as fans watch from afar through the window of an ever updating list of box scores. We don’t actually play the game — the in-universe game rather — but we are able to participate in a number of ways, like eating peanuts, which...well, I still don’t understand what eating peanuts does, but it’s a thing you can do.

When you first log in to Blaseball, you’re asked to choose a team, with little to go on other than their name and logo. Dallas Steaks, Baltimore Crabs, Hellmouth Sunbeams (wait, where is Hellmouth located?): once you’ve chosen, you’re now a fan of that team and are given a small amount of coins with which to gamble (virtual currency only, this is one of those rare free-to-play games that is actually free.)

And that’s how you’ll be interacting with Blaseball most of the time: betting on the day’s games, Salty Bet style. Every hour, there are 10 games going on, and you can look at the next 10 games starting the next hour and place your bets accordingly. Blaseball developer The Game Band even helpfully puts the odds next to each team’s chances of winning, so you can make an informed decision.

The money you earn from gambling can be spent on a handful of items in the Shop tab, but the most important one is purchasing votes. Votes can then be cast in a weekly election that can affect individual players, teams and the entire league itself. This is where Blaseball truly shines, and it’s what takes it from a relatively straightforward clicker/idle game into something special.

Elections are split up into two categories: Decrees, which are often league-shifting decisions made by majority vote, and Blessings, which are drawn raffle-style to bestow benefits to specific players or teams. An early decree voted upon was “Eat The Rich,” which redistributes the coins of the top 1% of participants to the other 99% at the end of each week/season (Bernie would be so proud.) While a blessing like “Vulture” would let your favored team steal the best hitter in the league and add them to your squad.

Watching the league evolve week to week is engrossing. Elections give fans just that tiny bit of interactivity, tilting the splort in one direction or another, and watching the results with bated breath. It’s a phenomenon I haven’t experienced since 2014’s Twitch Plays Pokemon, and similar to that socially-driven experiment, the community has embraced the game wholeheartedly, creating a deep, crowd-based lore behind every little detail and enhanced by the developers’ sometimes light — and sometimes quite heavy — touch.

After the first season of Blaseball ended, the blessing “Max Out Hitter” gave then-Dallas Steaks’ Jessica Telephone a five-star rating in batting. Fans interacting on the Official Blaseball Discord Channel began to attribute this surge in power to Jessica’s bat, dubbing it The Dial Tone. The Game Band supported this, and by Season 3, where player items were officially added to the game, The Dial Tone now was called out in the box score whenever Jessica came to the plate — and later, on her player profile after fans voted to “lift the Microphone” so they could get to know the players better.

The give and take from developers and fans is a fascinating one. While sometimes the interaction is friendly and collaborative, like in The Dial Tone instance, others have a very SUPERHOT-style antagonistic tone to them (and it doesn’t hurt that they share a similar color scheme as well). An example of this comes from Season 6, where the concept of Idols were integrated into Blaseball. Fans could idolize one player from any team and their accomplishments (hits and home runs for batters, strikeouts and shutouts for pitchers) could net fans extra cash. Jessica Telephone, being one of the best hitters in the league and a fan favorite, easily topped the idol leaderboard. But then, in a targeted form of discipline that’s plagued fans in a variety of ways since Season 1’s opening of the Forbidden Book of Blaseball rules, Jessica Telephone was “Shelled,” literally trapping her inside a giant peanut that skips her in the lineup. How long is she stuck like this? Who knows…

But that’s the great thing about Blaseball: nobody knows. And sometimes, the developers seem surprised at what’s happening as well. A recent blessing stated that the team who won it would steal the 14th most idolized player in the league. Fans began a campaign to make sure pitcher Jaylen Hotdogfingers was number 14. While normally this wouldn’t be a issue, the problem was that Jaylen Hotdogfingers was actually dead at the time, having been the first player to be incinerated by a rogue umpire after a game (another of the disciplines handed down by the Blaseball Gods). This isn’t something that could easily be done. You couldn’t just navigate to Jaylen’s player profile on the Blaseball site. You had to know the specific URL to the profile’s page, which seems to support the idea this wasn’t something intended by the developers.

When Hotdogfingers ended the season as lucky number 14, he…she….it (the Blaseball community is mixed on this, and The Game Band is staunchly in the camp of allowing every fan’s canon to be valid, only making things like The Dial Tone official when they appear to reach a critical and consistent mass in the community) returned from the void and seems mostly ok…other than the fact that random opponents are sometimes hit by Jaylen’s pitches and become Unstable, temporarily affecting their stats for a number of games. Probably nothing to worry about.

It’s a beautiful mess of a game. A never-ending ant farm where every ant has a backstory and occasionally a random ant gets an exploratory surgery that increases their pitching stat by one star (sorry, kind of lost the metaphor there…)

There’s a 2018 interview with game developer Jade Raymond where she envisions what games might be like 10 years in the future:

Well, I’m thinking in the past maybe what we were trying to create was the Pixies concert or whatever. And now I think that we want to create this neighborhood bar. You could go and hang out and sit alone and read your book at the neighborhood bar. You could go and participate in karaoke night with your friends. You could go become a regular and everyone in the bar knows you, like in Cheers; you walk in and it’s like, “Norm!” You could be like the VIP. What you’re looking for out of that place can be very different, but it’s an appointment and a place you can go over and over again, and do pub trivia night with your friends if that’s what you’re into.

She goes on to talk about utilizing data to change the way a game works over time:

There’s some simple ideas, like, for example, if you take Game of Thrones, you know let’s say at one point in the story you’re going to have the Red Wedding. You know that at one point some family is all going to be obliterated. You can put these kind of big story beats there in your overall story. Then you could say, we’re going to do it based on data.

Let’s say you have a traditional faction system and let’s say players are really gravitating towards this one family, and they’re the most beloved. If you really want to shock the community the most, those are the ones you plug in to kill off — based on who players are really interacting with.

These are things Blaseball is doing right now, not 10 years as Raymond foretold, but in just two. Fans participate in Blaseball in a number of ways. Some make streaming audio broadcasts of the games, some share theories on Discord, some create incredible fanart and others just check in on the site every few hours or so. And as for the Red Wedding? Well, I told you about players getting incinerated and shelled, right?

So go play Blaseball right now, tell the commissioner he’s doing a great job and become a Hades Tigers fan to help my team win some blessings. It’s truly the cultural event of the season.

#blaseball

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bechloeislegit · 5 years

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25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2019

DAY 2 - SECRET SANTA

Prompts from FanFiction Users nweeks3 and SecretNerd18: Both had the idea of a Secret Santa where Chloe gets Beca's name and doesn't know what to get her. [Full prompt from both listed at the end].

"Great job today, girls," Aubrey called out, ending the practice. "You're all doing really well, but we still have a way to go to be perfect for our first competition in the Spring."

"I know everyone is eager to leave," Chloe said. "But we have to draw names for our Secret Santa."

"What's that?" Fat Amy asked.

"You pick a name and buy that person a gift," Chloe said. "Only you don't tell anyone whose name you picked. Then at the Christmas party, we open our gifts and try and guess who it's from."

"It's really fun," Jessica said. "My family is huge and we do it every year. If we didn't, we'd go broke buying everyone a present."

"We do set a limit on how much we can spend," Aubrey said. "This year gifts have to be twenty-five dollars or less. And, you have to figure out a way to sneak your gift under the tree so it stays a secret until we're ready to open them. You can do that any time between now and the party. We're the only ones who have access so you don't have to worry about leaving them here."

"Does everybody understand?" Chloe asked. Each of the girls nodded and Chloe grabs a box from the table. "Now, everyone's name is in this box and we each have to take one. Aubrey, as Captain, you get to choose first. Oh, one more thing, you'll have to check the name because if you pick your own it goes back in the box and you have to pick again."

Aubrey smiled and reached into the box. Chloe went around to everyone and had them draw a name. Beca looked at her and rolled her eyes when Chloe shook the box at her. Beca took a name and looked at it.

Chloe took the last name and set the box down. She looked at the name and raised her eyebrows in surprise. She smiled and put the name in her pocket.

"Okay, ladies," Aubrey said. "That's it. I want to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving and we'll see you all back here on Monday."

~ Day 2 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases~

"Chloe!" Charlotte Beale squealed as she pulled her daughter into a hug. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too, mom," Chloe said, hugging her mother tighter.

Charlotte pulled back from the hug and ushered Chloe into the house. "How's school? Are the new Bellas working out?"

"School's good," Chloe said with a big smile. "And the Bellas are coming along well. I think we might have a real shot at making it to the ICCAs."

Chloe proceeded to tell her mother about each of the new Bellas and Charlotte laughed at their antics. She smiled as she watched her daughter's eyes light up when she spoke of one particular Bella.

"Mom, she's going to be the reason we win the ICCAs," Chloe said, excitedly. "I just know it!"

"Sounds like she's someone special," Charlotte said.

"She is," Chloe said and then sighed. "Aubrey's not too fond of her. But that's because she's always pushing Aubrey to change things. And you know how Aubrey is."

"Uptight, stuck in tradition, and doesn't listen to anything anyone else has to say about the set?" Charlotte said. "You mean that Aubrey? Yeah, I know how she is."

Chloe laughed. "Anyway, I'm going to go unpack and freshen up."

"It is good to have you home," Charlotte told Chloe. "When you come back down you can help me make the pies for tomorrow."

"Okay," Chloe said and grabbed her bag before heading up to her room.

~ Day 2 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases~

The next two days found Chloe talking more and more about Beca. She didn't notice she had been doing it until her mother commented on it. Chloe blushed a bit but denied it was anything but admiration for Beca's talent and what she brought to the Bellas.

Chloe tried to tone down the amount she talked about Beca, but everything reminded her of Beca or something Beca said or did. Her mother would just listen to her and smile knowingly without comment. Chloe would blush and change the subject when she caught her mother's smile.

It was Sunday morning, and time for Chloe to leave. Chloe's brother, CJ (for Carl, Jr.), dropped Choe's suitcase into the trunk and closed the lid.

"It was good to see you, Chloe," CJ said, giving Chloe a hug.

"I'll be back for Winter Break and Christmas," Chloe said. "I expect to see you while I'm home, too."

"I'll do my best," CJ said. "And, you should do something about your crush."

Chloe could feel the heat in her cheeks. "I don't know what you're going on about. I don't have a crush on Beca."

"I didn't mention a name," CJ said with a smirk.

"Shut up," Chloe said, her cheeks reddening even more.

"It's okay if you do," CJ said, smiling. "She sounds kind of awesome. I can't wait to meet her."

"Stop talking like that," Chloe said. "I told you, I don't have a crush on her."

"Really?" CJ asked. "What's Beca's favorite color?"

"Most everyone thinks it's black, but it's actually purple," Chloe said.

"What's her favorite song?" CJ asked.

"Oh, my God," Chloe said. "Do you want to kill her. There is no way Beca would have a favorite song. She is a fountain of knowledge on music and she's into all-"

Chloe stopped talking when she noticed CJ staring at her with a raised eyebrow, and wearing a smug smile.

"Shut up," Chloe said, shoving him away from her. "Just because I know her favorite color does not mean I have a crush on Beca. I know Aubrey's favorite color, does that mean I have a crush on her, too?"

"Maybe," CJ said and chuckled. "And, who knows? Maybe I'll get to meet this Beca girl at Christmas."

CJ hurried back toward the house before Chloe could say or do anything to him. Chloe turned when she heard her mother chuckling behind her.

"Give me a hug," Charlotte said, pulling Chloe to her.

"I'll miss you, mom," Chloe said.

"I'll miss you, too," Charlotte said and pulled out of the hug. "And if you want to bring Beca home with you for Christmas, it's okay with me."

"Mom," Chloe whined.

"Don't mom me," Charlotte said. "You talked about that girl enough over the last four days, it's easy to see you really like her. I say go for it."

"She's one of the Bellas and we're friends," Chloe said. "Don't read more into it than there is. Okay?"

"Okay," Charlotte said before smiling and adding, "Just let me know if you plan on bringing her with you."

"I'm leaving now," Chloe said, shaking her head as she made her way to the driver's side door. She got into the car and lowered her window. She looked at her mother standing next to the car. "I'll call you later in the week."

"Drive safe," Charlotte said. "And, let me know when you've made it back to Barden."

"I will," Chloe said as she threw a quick wave before driving off.

"And ask that girl out!" Chloe heard her mother yell before she got too far away.

~ Day 2 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases~

A week after Thanksgiving, Chloe was still trying to figure out what to get for her Secret Santa recipient. Despite what her mother and brother thought, Chloe's only known Beca for a couple of months and she was still an enigma to Chloe. They have become friends, but Chloe felt like there might be something more there. If she was honest with herself, she had some not so platonic feelings for the brooding alt girl.

"What do you get for someone who loves music as much as Beca does?" Chloe asked herself. In the next instant, Chloe laughed. "Why would I even think about something music-related for someone who was a walking encyclopedia of music? That's just a disaster waiting to happen."

Chloe sighed and changed for Bellas rehearsal. She was surprised to find Beca the first one in the rehearsal space.

"Hey, Beca," Chloe called out, startling Beca.

"Oh, hey, Chloe," Beca said, quickly moving away from the Christmas tree. "Um, how's everything?"

"Everything's good," Chloe said, setting her bag down. She walked over to stand in front of Beca. "Why are you here so early? You're usually running in at the last second."

"Um, I was, um," Beca stumbled over her words.

Beca started fidgeting with her hands and looking around nervously. Chloe grabbed her hands, causing Beca to look at her.

"Take a breath, Beca," Chloe said with a laugh. "It's okay. You don't have to answer. I was just curious."

"Sorry," Beca said. "I was putting my Secret Santa gift under the tree. I was hoping to sneak out before anyone came in."

Chloe looked over to the tree and saw the package under it. "Don't worry I won't tell anyone I saw you do it."

"Thanks," Beca said with a small smile.

"So, how did you find something so quickly?" Chloe said, releasing Beca's hands, having forgotten she had been holding them. "I'm usually good at picking out gifts, but I'm having a hard time with this one."

"I don't know," Beca said. "I was out with my mom over Thanksgiving and saw it. It reminded me of, um, the person whose name I drew, so I bought it."

"Lucky bitch," Chloe said with a loud sigh. "I wish it were that easy for me. Oh, well, at least I have two more weeks to get something."

Beca was kept from answering when Aubrey entered.

"Oh, Beca," Aubrey said, spying the brunette. "I'm surprised to see you here early. I do hope to see it happen more often."

"Shit," Beca mumbled. She then turned to Chloe and whispered, "This is another reason I hoped to be out of here before anyone showed up. Aubrey will expect me to be early or on time from now on."

Chloe chuckled and went to greet Aubrey. Beca sat in the nearest chair and waited for the others to arrive.

~ Day 2 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases~

Over the next week, Chloe found herself spending a lot of her free time with Beca. Beca would ask Chloe to grab a coffee between classes or go to the diner after practice, and they often met up for lunch on days they didn't have a class.

Chloe loved spending more time with Beca. It made her realize how much she liked Beca, plus she hoped she could pick up on something that would help her figure out what to get Beca for her Secret Santa gift.

At rehearsal a few days before the Bellas Christmas Party, Chloe found herself looking at Beca with a soft smile. She was startled out of her thoughts about Beca when Stacie sat next to her.

"I see you have your eye on our snarky Bella," Stacie said.

"What?" Chloe said.

"Come on, Chloe," Stacie said. "She's hot, sweet, and she's into music even more than you are. I can see why you like her."

"Am I that obvious?" Chloe asked with a heavy sigh.

"Kind of," Stacie said. "We all think it's cute how neither one of you can tell the other likes them. I'm thinking of starting a pool on when you two will finally get your act together and tell the other how you feel."

"Wait," Chloe said, furrowing her brow. "Are you saying that Beca likes me? Like in like likes me?"

"Yes," Stacie said. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Believe it or not, she looks at you the same way you look at her. I figure she hasn't said anything because you're friends and she values your friendship more than anyone else's."

"How do you know that?" Chloe asked.

"We're friends, too," Stacie said. "We study together and talk. And she talks about you. A lot."

"Wow," Chloe said. "All this time I was afraid I'd scare her off if I said anything about liking her. I want to ask her out but I don't want her to freak out."

"I'm not going to lie," Stacie said. "She'll probably freak a little. But, then she'll be so happy that you like her as much as she likes you she'll forget about freaking out. The only way the two of you can get together is if one of you makes the first move to get things started."

"What can I do?" Chloe asked. "I'd like to ask her out, but I'm still unsure about how she'd react. I don't want to lose her as a friend either."

"Just do it," Stacie said. "Or find some cutesie way of doing it. She's a sucker for those cheesy soldiers coming home for Christmas videos. You know the ones where the soldier is wrapped in a box or something. She loves them and is always sending them to me. Do something cheesy and she'll be all yours."

"Something cheesy," Chloe repeated. Suddenly, Chloe's eyes lit up. "I think I have an idea." She grabbed Stacie in a hug. "Thank you, Stacie. This is going to be perfect."

Stacie laughed as Chloe jumped up and ran over to Aubrey.

~ Day 2 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases~

The Bellas Christmas Party had started and Beca was looking for Chloe. It was strange that the redhead wasn't there yet.

"Hey, Aubrey?" Beca called out to their Bellas Captain.

"Yeah?" Aubrey said as Beca walked over to her.

"Um, do you know where Chloe is?"

"She got held back in her last class," Aubrey said. "She'll be here later. She wasn't sure how long she'd be and said we should start without her."

"Oh, um, okay," Beca said. "Thanks."

"Okay, ladies," Aubrey said, clapping her hands to get their attention. The girls all gather around Aubrey. "We're going to do our Secret Santa gift exchange first."

"What about Chloe?" Beca asked, causing some of the Bellas to smile and aww at her. Beca blushed as she asked, "Shouldn't we wait until she gets here?"

"It was her idea to do the exchange first," Aubrey said. "She said she'll open hers when she gets here."

"Who gets to open theirs first?" Fat Amy asked.

"I suggest Beca does," Stacie said. "That big box has her name on it and it's taking up a lot of space around the tree."

"Um," Beca said, looking around at everyone. "It is a big box."

"That's a good idea," Aubrey said. "Beca, you should open it so we can move the box out of the way. It is blocking most of the other presents."

"Okay," Beca said.

Beca set her drink on the table and walked over to stand in front of the box. She saw the tag with her name on it. She took a breath and noticed a small rope with another sign that said: "Open Here."

Beca took the rope and looked at everyone watching her. She took a deep breath and slowly pulled open the box. She jumped back when she saw Chloe standing in the box with a look of uncertainty on her face.

"Hey," Chloe said with a small wave at Beca.

Beca's eyes were wide as she took in Chloe's appearance. Tied around her waist was a big red bow and over her head, taped to the top of the box, was a sprig of mistletoe.

"You're my secret Santa?" Beca asked.

"Uh, yeah, I am," Chloe responded.

"And, you, um, you're giving me you for Christmas?" Beca asked.

"Uh," Chloe looked over Beca's head to see Stacie nodding at her with a big smile. "Yes, I am. If you, um." Chloe cleared her throat. "If you want me."

Beca smiled and stepped closer to Chloe. "And, you're standing under the mistletoe?"

Chloe glanced up and smiled. "Yeah, I am."

"Well, it is a tradition that you should kiss whoever is standing under the mistletoe."

"That's very true," Chloe said, her smile growing wider.

"Well, I am not usually a traditional kind of girl," Beca said, causing Chloe's smile to falter. "But, I think I'll make an exception this time."

Chloe's smile was bigger than ever as Beca joined her inside the box. Beca looked at Chloe and started to lean in when she noticed all the girls staring at them. She pulled back and blushed.

Chloe frowned and looked at Beca. Beca looked at Chloe and then at the Bellas. Surprised to see such hopeful looks on their faces.

Beca turned back to Chloe and said, "Fuck it!" as she pulled the box closed. She turned and pulled Chloe to her and grabbed Chloe's lips in a kiss.

"Hey!" they could hear some of the girls yell.

"No fair!" they heard Fat Amy call out.

Chloe didn't care, she put her arms around Beca's waist and pulled her closer to deepen the kiss. The couple jumped apart when the box was opened and they looked out to see Stacie smiling at them as the Bellas started cheering in the background.

Chloe and Beca looked at each other with a shrug and a smile.

"Merry Christmas, Beca," Chloe said.

"Merry Christmas, Secret Santa," Beca said as she leaned in for another kiss.

Stacie closed the box and let the new couple have some privacy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

nweeks3: The Bellas have a Secret Santa where Chloe is assigned Beca's name, but yet has no idea what to get her. SecretNerd18: I like the secret Santa idea someone mentioned with Chloe getting Beca and not knowing a gift to give her so... she gives HERSELF! Lol.

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #chloe beale #beca mitchell

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go-events · 5 years

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GO Rom Com Spotlight: @bilboo

The lovely @bilboo (also perkynurples on AO3) has claimed The Vow to adapt for Good Omens in the Good Omens Rom Com Event.

For reference, here’s a little background about the source material!

About The Vow: Paige (Rachel McAdams) and Leo (Channing Tatum) are happily married newlyweds, but their idyllic life together suddenly shatters when a car accident leaves her in a coma. When Paige awakes, she has severe memory loss and doesn't know Leo. She also has a confusing relationship with her parents (Sam Neill, Jessica Lange) and still harbors feelings for a former fiance (Scott Speedman). Despite these difficult obstacles, Leo is determined to renew their bond and rebuild their marriage.

We spent some time chatting about how the adaptation is coming so far, as well as future plans for it! Now, get to know @bilboo a little better!

* * *

goromcom: Beginning with a bit about you, or at least, what Tumblr thinks it knows about you. Tumblr says you post “about #thorin and #ovw". I do indeed enjoy discovering what other fandoms the romcom participants enjoy. What if I made you choose only one of Good Omens, The Hobbit/LotR, and Overwatch? (What an evil question that is!)

bilboo: One might think that’s a difficult question, but compared to a lifelong obsession with everything Tolkien, Overwatch was only a short foray into a different fandom. I’ve been reading Tolkien all my life, and same goes for Terry Pratchett’s Discworld, which is how I came across Good Omens many years ago, of course. I choose Tolkien without a moment’s hesitation, because it’s transformed from the stories my father read to me and my brother at bedtime, into this hugely inspirational experience which has helped me become a better writer, and meet many amazing people. The Good Omens fandom feels like visiting a familiar place after a long absence, in a way :)

goromcom: I had an early bonding moment with the person I went on to marry over the fact that I recognized an obscure Tolkien quote in his email signature, so I understand. :)

But on to your romcom! You chose to adapt The Vow. Has this movie been a favorite of yours, or is there some other reason you chose it?

bilboo: Funny story actually, I came to this event a bit late, and I was browsing the stories still available to be claimed, and I didn’t even recognize The Vow at first - clicked on it and realized, hey! I’ve seen this before! And it has an amnesia storyline, of course I need to adapt this. Cue me rewatching it half a dozen times and coming up with a Good Omens adaptation :)

goromcom: I love that! What's your favorite moment of your movie, and are you looking forward to presenting it in your adaptation? Any loose plans for that scene that you can share?

bilboo: I absolutely adore the scene where Leo takes Paige on their first date - all over again. He’s so adorable, but there’s this undercurrent of heartbreak - he tries so hard throughout the entire movie to just make her happy, hoping but at the same time daring not to hope too much that she will remember him, and it really shines in this one scene. He wants Paige to fall in love with him all over again, and I think in a way, the same is happening to him.

goromcom: Aww, it sounds sweet. Other than that, do you plan to stick very closely to the beats of the original story, or make bigger changes?

bilboo: It’s definitely going to stick to the main beats of the original in that it will be a modern human AU, but other than that, my adaptation will be a little bit more… subdued, I suppose you could say. Not too many big family gatherings, a lot more introspection. Aziraphale takes Paige’s role, and he doesn’t have an art studio, but rather a familiar cozy bookshop. :) Crowley still owns a recording studio, because I thought that would be perfect for him as a music lover.

goromcom: What's an interesting decision you've made in your planning so far--a notable casting decision, a changing of venue, or some other plan you have to paint Good Omens all over your rom com?

bilboo: Working off the last question before this one, some changes do occur to involve the many-splendored list of characters from Good Omens in this fic. I’m kind of looking forward to writing Beelzebub as Crowley’s close friend, instead of their usual villainous role, and on the other hand, Gabriel will take the part of Aziraphale’s very questionable ex-boss (and perhaps ex-more). The amnesia storyline really speaks to me, and without spoiling anything, I love that the original movie didn’t take the easy, cheesy way out in the end. I mean to implement that as well.

goromcom: Interesting! But let’s not give too much away and move on to the final question, which I am blatantly stealing from The Good Place: The Podcast. Tell me something "good". It can be something big or small. It can be a charity you think is doing good work, or you can talk about how great your pet is.

bilboo: I’ve been seeing lots of pictures of people’s pets in these interviews, and I adore that. My pets are a bit unusual, because they’re actually a hive of thousands of bees - I became a beekeeper just last year, and I was very anxious for them to survive the winter, which I’m happy to report they DID, and I can’t wait to watch them grow, and actually harvest my own honey this year!

goromcom: That’s amazing! What a lovely, constructive hobby! :)

Speaking of lovely, it’s just a short wait until the lovely GO adaptation of The Vow will begin posting! Stay tuned.

#goromcom #goromcom spotlight #good omens #bilboo #the vow

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thekrazykeke · 5 years

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You’re Perfect

Fandom(s): Attack on Titan, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Batman: the Animated series, Bleach, Black Butler, DragonFable, Dragon Ball Z, Fruits Basket, Fullmetal Alchemist, Hellsing, John Wick, Naruto, Ouran Highschool, Persona 5, SkipBeat!, Suicide Squad, Telltale the Walking Dead, Tokyo Ghoul, Vampire Knight, and more!

Relationship(s): TBD.

Rating: K+ through MA.

Summary: What would you do if had the ability to ignore the boundary between reality and fiction? To be with your ideal person who only exists in anime, manga, movies, and games, etc.? With the power to go wherever you want to, would you stay in a fantastical world or return to reality?

Warning(s): Will be tagged appropriately per chapter and fandom, etc. etc.

Taglist: Click here to be added.

Tagging: @misspooh @ginghampearlsnsweettea @naomithenerdgirl @wojtud-widvut-fecret @indigorose049 @queenofhearts579 @fallinoutoforbit @ashthebootyholetickler @one-twisted-bee @stichpatched

Those with the strikethrough in their name, I’ll be sending the link through to your DMs, so please leave it open. I’d like to say that the listed fandoms is a cursory overview, and is prone to change. If you have something you’d like me to write about, a fandom and anime you want me to watch, don’t hesitate to tell me. I intend this to be a long running thing for all of us nerds to enjoy together. With that said, this is only the prologue and I hope to improve the chapter length and such from here onwards.

Stay so stay tuned, hit that like button, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer. Ciao~

Prologue

A Normal Day Turned...?

December 11, 20XX RealityLux, Inc. 5:36 P.M.

It never stopped being so jarring.

Being outside, or even, just surrounded by people, no, by strangers, all hustling and bustling, either on their way to some type of appointment, or work, or a friend/family member’s house, or, or something... Everyone always seemed to have a set destination in mind, and they were determined to get there.

Sometimes you found yourself unwillingly swept up in the crowd, with the vibe, the urge, to actually go along with the flow, curious to see where that feeling would take you.

The outcome for occasionally submitting to these whimsical flights of fancy led to awesome destinations, such as a brand new internet cafe that you’d never heard of but quickly fell in love with because of the decor and ambiance, or the park that boasted some of the best up-and-coming local urban artists, and even the black owned businesses which sold your prefered clothing style at a reasonable price.

During days like those, it felt as if you truly had the best of luck.

Well, honestly, the past several years felt like that.

Unluckily for you, you’d grown up into and been around long enough to witness the travesty and endless tragedies that plagued this crooked nation due to warmonger presidents like Bush. Cried with overwhelming joy when President Obama was elected, and cried again when his final term ended.

You’d wept furious tears over the fact that Hilary had not been elected, even though she was really just more of the same, and could not sleep peacefully during the four years that President Orange was in the White House. You’d lived through terror and injustice and bigotry. Or, well, correction, people stopped pretending to care whether or not they were labeled as racists and Neo Nazis. You learned to keep your head down even more during that time, to watch out for people not just at night time, but also during the day.

America has always been a terrible country instilled with hypocrites to the extreme but those four years had aged you well beyond your years. After Trump’s impeachment, although his Vice President tried to step up to the plate, it would seem that a higher power decided to have mercy.

Michelle Obama decided to run for President, and she won.

During her time in the White House, many things, both gradually and quickly, came to pass. Things that were long overdue, such as the rich and elitist members of society paying more on taxes, minimum wage being increased, pedophiles and rapists getting the maximum sentences, college tuition was lowered to an affordable price or free altogether, increased salary for women, etc. There just isn’t any possible way that Michelle would be able to undo the ugliness and rot that infected America for so many years. You still hated this country, but with her in charge, you learned to hate it just a little less.

Pop!

With a blink, you found yourself smiling on autopilot. Two of your coworkers, Jessica and Kate, were laughing and giggling as they poured themselves some bubbly champagne before going around the room.

“Aaaand youuu,” The bubbles are floating to the top, the scent of the champagne wafting upwards to your nose, “Get the rest because you clinched that deal with Bandai.” Kate praised, flashing her bleached white toothed smile in your direction. “Go, [Your Last Name]! Woo!”

“Ohh, we’re cheering now! Woo-wooo!!” Jessica joined in, raising her free hand in an enthusiastic wave.

Raising the glass in a faint salute, “Mm, c’mon, guys.” You took a sip of your drink. “This was a team effort.” Actually it wasn’t, but it sounded better to say it that way.

“Don’t be so modest, [Your Last Name].” One of the few random guys at the party piped up. “C’mon, give us a speech!”

Before you knew it, several more people had took up the call.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!”

Closing your eyes briefly, you inhale and then exhale. Raising your glass, you smiled a bit wider, and waited until they settled down. “It’s been an honor to work with you all for so many years. I hope to be working with you for many more years to come.Thank you.”

Short, sweet and to the point.

It gained a few good natured groans and people wanting to hear more, but they were quickly distracted by the caterers who brought in food and more wine and champagne. That was the perfect opportunity for you to sneak off, claiming that you were going to use the bathroom, placing the flute of half drunk alcohol on the nearest table while on the way out the door.

As soon as you were in the hallway, away from your colleagues, the (fake) smile that’s been plastered on your face all day fell off. You walked as quickly as possible with the four inch heels you’re wearing, reaching a flight of stairs and held onto the railing as hustled down them.

There’s a smile is on your face again as you take that last step, and this time, it’s genuine, because of the man holding his hand out to you so gallantly. You took his hand with a little laugh, accepting the small bouquet that he offered with his free hand.

“Cinderella rushing off from her ball before it’s even midnight. Classic, I love it.” He winked. You rolled your eyes and whacked him on the arm lightly. “Oh! Ow.” Feigning injury, he clutched at the ‘hurting’ part. “Violent. I guess you’re not Cinderella but that kick ass girl from Ella Enchanted.”

“Shut up. You’re so ridiculous, Mr. Hunt.” Shaking your head, you pretended to be upset, looking away with a huff. Only to really huff with annoyance when your ear is flicked. “Eli, stop~”

“That’s right, you better call me by my first name. ‘Mr. Hunt’ is my father, as you well know, little girl.” Eli grabbed you by both your hands, tugging you ever closer.

And closer.

Close enough that you catch a whiff of his cologne that he’s wearing and it smells expensive, woodsy.

Perfect.

“Eli, you found her!”

The moment is broken.

You jerked your hands free and smile automatically as another woman came running up to you and Eli, holding onto a wrapped, square box. “Kymbrea, hey!” You open your arms and laugh slightly as she handed off the package to Eli before wrapping her arms around you in a hug. After a few minutes, you patted her on the back to signal her to let go and she did, accepting the package back again, before holding it out to you.

“Congrats on getting that deal with Bandai. Knew you could do it. So proud of you, best friend!” Kymbrea happily proclaimed. “C’mon, open it, open it, open it.” With a needling voice, she gently cajoled you.

“Kym, hey, baby, that’s enough.” With a slight laugh, Eli tugged her out of your space. A pang went through your heart and the smile on your face felt a little brittle. Neither of them seemed to notice, thank god. “I’ll take this wild woman off your hands.” As he glanced at you, smiling as if nothing was amiss, as if he hadn’t been... Hell, you didn’t even know anymore. Maybe it’s all in your head? With an awkward nod and smile, that he accepted without issue, he wrapped his arm around her waist, leading her up the stairs, “We’ll see you later, [Your Name].”

You watched them go upstairs for a minute or two, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed and dismissed. Swallowing the lump in your throat, hands still full with the gifts, you instead push those unnecessary feelings to the side.

Walking out the lobby to the front entrance, where the valet already has your car pulled up and ready for you, key dangling from his hand. You ignore his curious, slightly concerned stare, tossing the bouquet inside and on the backseat, the wrapped package getting only slightly better treatment.

Snagging the car key, you hand him a tip and then go around to the driver’s side, climbed in and then closed the door after you. Adjusting the heat in the car and the mirrors, you put the key in the ignition, made sure no one was behind you before taking off.

The further and further away you get from the rented out hotel, the less the feeling in your chest aches. It’s something you don’t take much stock in, you can’t afford to. For awhile, you drive around, only to eventually come to your favorite market.

It was getting dark, so you decided to do a quick in ‘I’m feeling sorry for myself’ and out run. So chocolate, poptarts, bottles of Lipton tea, the usual. All in all, less than fifteen minutes and then you were driving to your apartment. Seeing it from a distance still took your breath away.

You’d done this, this was your life, after all this time, you’d achieved that which seemed unachievable.

Living at the top, finally. It didn’t matter that it felt a little like a hollow victory.

After having a small conversation with the doorman, politely declining his help with your groceries and the two gifts you’d received. Your neighbor, some white guy you didn’t know the name of, didn’t allow you to refuse, citing reasons for why it wouldn’t be decent to let you suffer this alone, and eventually you agreed if only to get to him to stop; together, you and he caught the elevator for the top floor where your apartment is. Letting yourself in first, you told him thanks for the help, and he smiled, lingering. You handed him whatever was left in your wallet, a generous amount and still he lingered. It was starting to be uncomfortable so you slammed the door in his face, locking it shut quickly. quickly kicking off your heels and slipping on your flip flops.

Tossing the flowers into the trash, you began to put away most of the groceries, leaving only a couple boxes of poptarts and a case of tea out. The sound of running water is loud in the apartment, but familiar. Cleaning out a mug, you pour the bottled tea inside, along with a few ice cubes, grabbing the matching saucer.

Walking into the living room, you turned on the TV, placing the mug of tea on the coffee table side the couch. Reaching into your back pocket of your pants, you pull out your cell phone, also putting it on the coffee table after putting it on ‘read’.

Much more comfortable.

Sitting on the couch with your feet tucked neatly in criss-cross applesauce style, leaning back against the pillow, you grabbed the PS4 controller, pressing the power button and quickly choosing the game that you’d digitally downloaded. Thankfully, it’s fully downloaded and updated, ready to play.

For hours, you lose yourself in the combat, grunting with dissatisfaction when your on screen character is overwhelmed, or cheering with triumph when you finally beat a mini boss or passed a quest.

Only once your fingers started to cramp and you couldn’t ignore the urge to drink the tea, did you press pause. Sipping at your tea, you flexed your fingers, pressing the button on your cellphone and it lit up, showing off your message from Kymbrea which read simply ‘U play it yet?’ and inadvertently, you gaze drifted to the package sitting by your front door, which you’d dropped carelessly.

Feeling guilty, you huff out a sigh.

Getting up again, lightly tossing the controller back onto the couch, you walk over the package, picking it up and returning to your original spot. Carefully peeling off the wrapper, you reveal a totally pitch black box except for the bright red logo XR on it.

Raising an eyebrow, you opened the box and pull out a VR headset, a tiny controller, and instructions. Shaking the box, wondering if that’s it, out fluttered a piece of paper in pretty, delicate cursive, ‘I’ve already uploaded everything I knew you’d like. Happy early Christmas! xo, K.’

Shrugging, you sighed and completely decided to let what happened earlier go. Kymbrea had done nothing wrong, she is your best friend. If anything, you’re the problem. With that little (depressing) pep talk finished, you fired off a text, telling her thanks and that you were checking out her gift now. Once that’s finished, you set up the VR headset, all the cables and cords, and then put the headset on after making sure everything is up to date.

After some labels and companies that you didn’t know about and you assumed were associated with the game popped up in front of your vision, after that, that’s when things got a bit weird. There’s a black woman, who looks terribly, terribly familiar, walking straight towards you. Before she gets too close, she stops and tilts her head in that same weird mannerism that you know, but--

/Welcome to HTC Vive, the virtual reality which caters to all your needs. Before we can move on to the first chapter of the game, we’ll have to go through the registration to make sure everything is in order. Is that okay?/

Resisting the urge to groan out loud by Kymbrea’s utter cheesiness, yet also grudgingly appreciating the gesture, you decide to fight through the embarrassment because the AI looks so familiar to you because she was created, designed, whatever the term, to look exactly like you.

Once you finish up registration, verifying that yes, you’re over 18, and yes, you’re over 21, you don’t mind violence or gore, you know to take breaks and be careful of flashing lights, etc.

/So, the initial set up is complete. Some chapters will be better established with voice recognition, but can be played without. Do you wish to install this software?/

Literally going to kill Kymbrea, just shove a pillow over her face and smother her to death. Unwittingly, you groaned in sheer torture, before saying yes, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment.

/Understood. Voice recognition approved./

The AI’s voice changed to suit yours and whoa, that was kind of freaky but also pretty awesome?

Whatever, you’d think seriously about it later.

/We’re about to start your journey. Please make sure that you’ve done everything you needed to do beforehand because this chapter will be shorter or longer to suit your needs./

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, come on. Once you answered the last minute questions, such as what you wanted to be called, your preference for your partners (male/female or otherwise), and other 18+ questions that you refused to admit got you hot under the collar, as soon as you hit the ‘Accept’ button, that’s when things really, truly honestly got weird.

Technicolors burst across your vision. The AI lady took steps towards you and she wasn’t stopping. You were freaked the fuck out something terrible, cussing up a storm and as you reached up, about to pull the headset off, figuring this had to be some kind of mcfucking joke or jumpscare or something, and then her hand is touching yours and that shouldn’t be possible at all.You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out, or you don’t think it does?

You hear static and your vision turns black.

»»————-　　————-««

Stay tuned for the next update of You’re Perfect! You wake up in the bed of........?

#fic #miscellaneous #fics #black reader #awkward reader #misc fics #multifandom #black gamer #multifandom fic #thekrazykeke

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years

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5e Kayle, the Righteous build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Jessica “OwleyCat” Oyhenart and Victor “3rdColossus” Maury. Made for Riot Games.)

You know I find it funny that I haven’t made a build for Kayle yet, given that I made Morgana awhile ago sort of as a spur of the moment thing. Despite the fact that I main support I really don’t play Morgana (can’t hit skill shots omegalul), but meanwhile I really like Kayle. She was one of the first champions I played along with Sona since I was told she was very similar to Terrorblade who was one of my favorite carries in DOTA 2. I dropped her for a bit after her rework but I picked her up again and she’s still super fun! I mean, shame she’s kinda trash in the meta.

Anyways it’s about time I make a build for her since Morgana was alone for so long, especially since she’s coming back along with Pentakill! Kayle’s probably the perfect character to play if you want to go Lawful Stupid, but out of respect for everyone else please don’t play her Lawful Stupid.

GOALS

On wings of fire, hope ascends - It’s the quest of all champions to eventually transcend mortals. Hopefully we’ll at least be able to fly after this.

Fire reveals truth - Kayle is also well-known for her Zealous attack speed, so we’ll need to be able to get out as much DPS as possible.

The worthy survive! - A little bit of Divine Judgement goes a long way. An explosion of flaming swords helps too.

RACE

This may come as a surprise to you but Kayle is an Aasimar. More specifically a Protector Aasimar, which is rather fitting seeing as she’s seen as The Protector in Demacia. As an Aasimar your Charisma increases by 2, but I’m going to increase your Constitution instead of the typical Wisdom increase from Protector Aasimar, for a bit more lane sustain.

You have Celestial Resistance to both your own Radiant damage and your sister’s Necrotic damage, have the Light Bearer feature for the Light cantrip, and can give yourself or an ally a Celestial Blessing thanks to Healing Hands. It only heals up to your level but it certainly helps!

You also get Darkvision and the Celestial language, and Radiant Soul at level 3 thanks to your Protector subrace, We’ll discuss that when we get to level 3.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - League of Legends body types, am I right? Sure you have a bit of an “evil must be purged” personality, but D&D Paladins like that a lot.

14; DEXTERITY - Something something medium armor. I would call what you wear Half Plate, which means that for once the choice of Medium Armor is accurate!

13; STRENGTH - This feels strangely familiar...

12; CONSTITUTION - Kayle is very squishy in League but I like not dying so...

10; INTELLIGENCE - You may have lived through history but most of that time was spent up in the stars. Basically we need everything else more.

8; WISDOM - Yeah I didn’t increase Wisdom with your racial increase because I was planning to dump it. Kayle’s fatal flaw is that she’s blinded by her sense of justice, which is a sign of poor Wisdom and critical decision making.

BACKGROUND

There isn’t a great background for “Half of the Aspect of Justice” but Celebrity Adventurer’s Scion works fairly well. You get proficiency with Perception as well as Performance (you were in Pentakill, after all!), a Disguise Kit (but I’d maybe replace that with something else or ditch it entirely), and two languages of your choice. (Pick your poison.)

Your background feature Name Dropping lets you tell people that your mom was actually a god. You might be able to find people who knew your mom (or more realistically worshiped her before... you know... you became half of her?) and folk might recognize that you’re... half a god, and give you free stuff.

(Artwork by Alvin Lee and Kan Liu. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting off as a Sorcerer because Kayle is about as useless as a level 1 Sorcerer at level 1. (Also because CON saves are nice.) But you can also grab proficiency with Religion (you are a god, after all) and Intimidation. (Because you aren’t exactly nice.)

Sorcerers get to choose their Sorcerous Origin at level 1 and Divine Soul is like being a Cleric but you get to dump your Wisdom because you’re blind to morality. You get one free spell from your Divine Magic and I guess Bless makes sense since its attached to Law? Honestly there are other spells I’d recommend (Protection from Evil and Good would be helpful, and you can’t go wrong with either Healing Word or Guiding Bolt) but it’s honestly easier to just take Bless and call it there.

But of course since you get Divine Magic that means you get Spellcasting! You learn 4 cantrips from the Sorcerer list at level 1 such as Firebolt to smite the wicked, Sacred Flame for enemies with a lot of armor (but hopefully bad Dexterity), Thaumaturgy to make sure your words are heard, and Guidance because it’s good to provide aid to those who need it.

You also learn two spells from the Sorcerer list: we’ll be taking Mage Armor for the same reason you buy Doran’s Shield as a top laner (because laning phase sucks and you’re weak as hell at level 1), and we’ll also grab Healing Word for your Celestial Blessing. As a treat.

You are also Favored by the Gods, so if you miss an attack roll or fail a saving throw you can add 2d4 to the roll to potentially turn it into a success. Given that you’ll likely be making a lot of attack rolls later in this build it’s very useful to be able to give yourself some insurance.

LEVEL 2 - SORCERER 2

Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points equal to your Sorcerer level. For now all you can really do with them is get one of your spell slots back, but they’ll be more useful later on.

For something that’s useful right now take Ice Knife for the AoE burst of your Starfire Spellblade. Yes it does Cold damage, but you also shouldn’t have an AoE E by level 2. Hell you technically shouldn’t even be a ranged champion yet. We have to make compromises here.

If you want a single target Starfire Spellblade Guiding Bolt is a decent choice I suppose.

LEVEL 3 - SORCERER 3

Third level Sorcerers gain the power of the Aspects thanks to Metamagic. You learn two Metamagic options to change your spells in various ways: Quickened Spell will let you increase your attack speed to slay the unjust with Zealous fervor, and while it’s perhaps not the most practical choice Transmuted Spell will let you wield holy fire, instead of holy ice or whatever other damage type you pick up.

If you don’t care about doing specifically fire damage than Empowered Spell is a good choice to more effectively maximize damage.

As a Protector Aasimar your Radiant Soul lets you sprout wings as an action. For 1 minute you have a 30 foot flying speed and can add your Charisma modifier as Radiant damage to one target whenever you deal damage. It might not be much at level 3 but the extra damage from Starfire Spellblade adds up when you get more AP! Oh and to top it off you can also learn another spell like Misty Step, for Flash.

LEVEL 4 - SORCERER 4

4th level Sorcerers get the first of many Ability Score Improvements. Increase your uneven Charisma score as well as your Constitution score for nice, even, Lawful stats.

You can also learn another cantrip like Message to keep in team chat, as well as a leveled spell like Spiritual Weapon. Kayle summons hundreds of swords for her ultimate so I think it’s fine if you summon one sword for some more DPS.

LEVEL 5 - SORCERER 5

Normally I wouldn’t go out of my way to get 5th level spells but we kinda need Fly more than once per Long Rest. Sprout those wings or grant the gift of angelic ascension to an ally!

The bad witch Tasha also gave Sorcerers Magical Guidance, letting you spend a Sorcerery Point to reroll a failed ability check.

(Artwork by Zeen Chin. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 6 - PALADIN 1

I swear it wasn’t my intention to make two casters with Paladin levels one after another, but we’re doing it anyways because it’s not like Kayle wouldn’t be a Paladin. First level Paladins get Divine Sense to know of any villains who need justice, and Lay on Hands to save the righteous.

LEVEL 7 - PALADIN 2

Second level Paladins get to choose their Fighting Style. Normally I’d take Blessed Warrior for a character who’s more-or-less a pure caster but you kinda get too many Cleric cantrips as is, so we’ll settle for good ol’ Defense because you can’t go wrong with +1 AC.

Protection and Interception are also fine to help your friends if you’re willing to hold onto a shield (no reason not to), and if you want to do a funny joke you can take Blind Fighting because Justice is Blind.

But of course what we’re mostly here for is Spellcasting: sure you got the entire Cleric list at your disposal but Sorcerer spells known is very limited, so take the following from the Paladin list:

Command to force evildoers to grovel at your feet.

Detect Evil and Good to... detect evil and good.

Protection from Evil and Good to... yeah this is fairly obvious too.

Heroism to empower heroes.

Shield of Faith to protect the righteous.

You also get Divine Smite, which sure would be nice if you used your sword as a melee weapon. I mean if you want to hit someone in melee you can turn a spell slot into damage but I kinda have to wonder why would you.

LEVEL 8 - PALADIN 3

Third level Paladins get to choose their Sacred Oath. Honestly just about any Paladin Oath would work for Kayle, but an Oath of Redemption would probably be best after you failed to upkeep justice the first time. Along with adding Sanctuary and Sleep to your spell list you also get two Channel Divinity options: if you go for Emissary of Peace you can add a flat +5 to all your Persuasion checks for 10 minutes. But Rebuke the Violent works great as a recreation of Divine Judgment’s damaging effect! When a creature within 30 feet of you damages someone other than you they must make a Wisdom saving throw after you use this reaction. If they fail they will take the same amount of damage they dealt as Radiant damage, and if they succeed they will take half. This has no maximum limit so you can use it when an enemy nukes your allies to have them experience retribution! "Drown in holy fire!"

The vial witch Tasha also lets you Harness Divine Power with your Channel Divinity to regain a spell slot equal to half your proficiency bonus once per Long Rest. And finally you get Divine Health, because justice doesn’t take sick days.

(Artwork by John Yucedag. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 9 - PALADIN 4

4th level Paladins get another Ability Score Improvement so cap off that Charisma modifier, because we’re building AP in this build. Maxed out Charisma also means more prepared spells, but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 10 - PALADIN 5

5th level Paladins get an Extra Attack which sure would matter if you were actually swinging that sword instead of shooting Fire Bolts and Sacred Flames.

But what does matter is that you get second level Paladin spells! Along with Hold Person and Calm Emotions from the Redemption spell list (you should perhaps cast Calm Emotions on yourself at some point?) you can prepare spells like Aid to boost yourself and your allies, and Warding Bond (Tasha’s work once again) to take some damage for an ally. (Which is almost like making them immune to damage?)

LEVEL 11 - PALADIN 6

The only reason to multiclass into Paladin as a caster would be for Aura of Protection. Seeing as your Charisma modifier is maxed out already that means that you (and your allies within 10 feet) can add +5 to all their saving throws! I really don’t think I need to explain why that’s useful: your Constitution saves are now a +11 (meaning that if you take 22 damage or less you automatically succeed the Concentration check) and even your lowest save is still a +4!

You can also prepare one last spell but I’m actually going to take this time to remind you that Paladins are prepared spellcasters. Even though you have a relatively limited amount of Paladin spells be sure to swap them around to whatever’s the most useful for your task at hand. But if you must pick up a spell Detect Magic is never bad to have?

(Artwork by Alex “alexplank” Flores. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 12 - SORCERER 6

Now that the obligatory Paladin levels are done it’s time to go back to Sorcerer. Hope your party didn’t expect you to be the support because you’re only now getting Empowered Healing to spend a Sorcery point and reroll any healing that you or an ally within 5 feet performs. I mean by total level 12 healing numbers will actually get pretty big, so this becomes a lot more useful!

But speaking of healing we’ll be getting not that but Haste instead. While you can’t use it too well (can only use it to make a weapon Attack, Dash, Disengage, Hide, or Use an Object) you can turn your allies into an avenging angel! As long as you can keep your Concentration which I mean... you have a +11 to your CON save.

LEVEL 13 - SORCERER 7

Unfortunately there’s no spell to make someone completely immune to damage for one round (while also still letting them move as normal except the 9th level spell Invulnerability that you can only cast on yourself) so we’ll just have to settle for Death Ward keeping the target you cast this on alive after reaching 0 HP. No rain of holy swords either unfortunately.

LEVEL 14 - SORCERER 8

8th level Sorcerers get an Ability Score Improvement and I think it’s about time for us to grab Metamagic Adept for 2 more Sorcery points to use on your Metamagic options like Twinned Spell to spread your wrath amongst all, and Careful Spell to avoid hurting those allied to your cause.

Speaking of AoE damage Vitriolic Sphere may do Acid damage but it’s a great recreation of the AoE damage of a high level Starfire Spellblade.

LEVEL 15 - SORCERER 9

Behold the might of 5th level spells! Remember how I was a little disappointed that you didn’t have the ability to make flaming swords rain down from the sky? Here you go: Flame Strike! Sure it basically does the damage of Fireball (and hey feel free to grab Fireball if you’re so inclined) but it has the holy flair that’s to be expected of Kayle.

If you want something more interesting than “Radiant damage Fireball” Dawn is also a good spell choice.

LEVEL 16 - SORCERER 10

10th level Sorcerers get another Metamagic option! Seeing as weve already got plenty thanks to Metamagic Adept one of the few options left is Heightened Spell to make sure your foes tremble beneath your might! You can also grab another cantrip like Prestidigitation for more generalized divine power.

And finally there’s also plenty of great spells you can take but Dispel Evil and Good probably fits Kayle the best. Now is a great time to remind everyone that you’re more than welcome to make your own Kayle, and while what I take may be “accurate” it’s not even necessarily what I’d build if I was making the character.

(Artwork by West Studio. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 11

11th level Sorcerers can finally ascend! I hope you kept your Paladin weapons because it’s time for Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise! Calling upon the power of the Upper Planes (or lower planes too I guess if you’re awful) you get:

Resistance to Radiant and Necrotic damage (which you already have. Oops.) (I mean Lower Planes would make you immune to Fire and Poison damage...)

Immunity to the Charmed condition.

A 40 foot flying speed.

+2 AC

The ability to use your Charisma to attack, meaning that you can finally swing a sword well!

And the ability to attack twice, which you already have.

And the cool part is that unlike Tenser’s Transformation you can cast spells and don’t Exhaust yourself after using this spell! If you want to finally use your Paladin levels to bright the fight to your opponents you finally have the power to do so!

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 12

12th level Sorcerers get another Ability Score or Feat and I’m simply going to suggest the Tough feat. Even if Kayle doesn’t usually build health in League you can, and d6 hit die suck when it comes to actually surviving.

What? Did you expect another spell known? Nah fuck you lmao WoTC says no to Sorcerers having spells.

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 13

13th level Sorcerers can learn 7th level spells and while this may seem like a copout I have none that I really want for Kayle. Pick whatever you think would be the coolest since you can make your own choices by level 19. (My personal vote for Kayle would be Fire Storm but you are kinda loading up on AoE spells.)

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 14

Our final level is the 14th level of Divine Soul Sorcerer to finally ascend. You have Otherworldly Wings for a permanent 30 foot flying speed! You did it! You reached max level as Kayle! You’re now unstoppable!

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Kneel before the light! - Your spells known go up to 7th level, and your spell slots go up to 9th. I really don’t think I have to explain that a full leveled caster is extremely powerful.

What is dark in me, I will illuminate - Even your non-spellcasting has great utility. Both your Channel Divinity options are extremely useful, and a little bit of Lay on Hands healing never hurt anyone. Not to mention your Aasimar transformation providing a flat +20 to damage every turn while it’s active!

I am your salvation! - Even if you aren’t running up in melee range Paladin levels do help a ton for staying alive. +5 to all saves is no joke, especially when it means that your Concentration save sits at a whopping +13! (You have to take more than 26 damage to even have a chance at failing your Concentration check!)

CONS

Why have we wings, sister, if not to fly? - You’d think a high Charisma would at least make you good at socializing but... no you’re not even that. Proficiency in the “mean” Charisma skills and mediocre ability scores in everything other than Charisma means you’ll contribute very little other than divine wrath.

Wings of Immortal Flame, lift me from mortal temptation! - How much flight is too much flight? Between your Radiant Soul, Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise, and you know... the Fly spell you have quite a lot of ways to take to the skies which all become near-completely redundant by level 20.

Celestial justice, guide my blade - Ironically enough one of the biggest issues with this build is how long it takes to get online. The Paladin dip may keep you safe but it’s not making you stronger, and I doubt you’ll be sitting beside your friends like a support. If you don’t mind praying to darker powers Genie Warlock is actually a great choice to get considerably more damage (and “attack speed!”) with Eldritch Blast and easily accessible flight by level 6 in Warlock. (Celestial Warlock also exists if you want more healing utility and want to stay in flavor.)

Of course weakness is something to shed as you come closer to divinity, but remember that even if mortality makes you weak mortals are not. Your allies will fight by your side and its your duty to protect them, as they shall no doubt protect you. Treat them with respect and vanquish evil together! Because no one likes a lawful stupid top laner.

(Artwork by Atey Ghailan. Made for Riot Games.)

#dnd #dnd 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #League of Legends #League of Legends Kayle #angel #avenging #avenging angel #light #wrath #dnd sorcerer #dnd paladin #Pentakill

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